F.  MARION 


KATHARINE   LAUDERDALE 


AW.Elson  A  Co  Boston 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDAlfe 


BY 

F.    MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SARACINESCA,"  "  PIETRO  GHISLEKI,"  ETC. 


VOL.  I 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  ALFRED  BRENNAN 


gorfc 
MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND    LONDON 
1894 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1893, 
BY  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 


Xortooot)  ^DrrsB : 

J.  S.  Cuihinjt  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith. 
Botton,  Mass..  U.S.A. 


P5 


JMftlAl 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHAPTER  II.   . 

CHAPTER  III.  . 

CHAPTER  IV.  . 

CHAPTER  V.   . 

CHAPTER  VI.  . 

CHAPTER  VII.  . 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHAPTER  IX.  . 

CHAPTER  X.   . 

CHAPTER  XL  . 

CHAPTER  XII.  . 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CHAPTER  XV.  . 


PAGE 
1 

.  25 
47 

.  69 

.  92 

.  113 

.  137 

.  159 

.  182 

.  200 

.  223 

.  244 

.  266 

.  288 
312 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

VOL.  I. 

PAGE 

A  place  probably  unique  in  the  world  "     ...       10 

She   rose  suddenly  and  pretended  to  busy   herself 
with  the  single  light  " 79 

'  What  have  you  decided  ?'  she  enquired  "       .         .     203 

'Kitty — don't  do  what   I've  done,'  she  said   ear 
nestly"  •    .         •         .257 

vii 


KATHARINE    LATJDERDALE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  I  PREFER  the  dark  style,  myself  —  like  my 
cousin,"  said  John  Ealston,  thoughtfully. 

"  And  you  will  therefore  naturally  marry  a  fair 
woman,"  answered  his  companion,  Hamilton  Bright, 
stopping  to  look  at  the  display  in  a  florist's  win 
dow.  Ealston  stood  still  beside  him. 

"  Queer  things  —  orchids,"  he  observed. 

"  Why  ?  "  Nothing  in  the  world  seemed  queer 
or  unnatural  to  Bright,  who  was  normally  consti 
tuted  in  all  respects,  and  had  accepted  the  universe 
without  comment. 

"  I  am  not  sure  why.  I  think  the  soul  must  look 
like  an  orchid." 

"  You  are  as  bad  as  a  Boston  girl,"  laughed 
Bright.  "  Always  thinking  of  your  soul !  Why 
should  the  soul  be  like  an  orchid,  any  more  than 
like  a  banana  or  a  turnip  ?  " 

"It  must  be  like  something,"  said  Ealston,  in 
explanation. 

1 


2  KA'l MARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"If  it's  anything,  it's  faith  in  a  gaseous  state, 
ray  dear  man,  and  therefore  even  less  visible 
and  less  like  anything  than  the  common  or  market 
faith,  so  to  say  —  the  kind  you  get  at  from  ten 
cents  to  a  dollar  the  seat's  worth,  on  Sundays, 
according  to  the  charge  at  the  particular  place 
of  worship  your  craving  for  salvation  leads  you 
to  frequent." 

"I  prefer  to  take  mine  in  a  more  portable 
shape,"  answered  Kalston,  grimly.  "  By  the  bot 
tle —  not  by  the  seat  —  and  very  dry." 

"Yes  —  if  you  go  on,  you'll  get  one  sort  of 
faith  —  the  lively  evidence  of  things  unseen  — 
snakes,  for  instance." 

Bright  laughed  again  as  he  spoke,  but  he  glanced 
at  his  friend  with  a  look  of  interest  which  had 
some  anxiety  in  it.  John  Ralston  was  said  to 
drink,  and  Bright  was  his  good  angel,  ever  striving 
to  be  entertained  unawares,  and  laughing  when 
he  was  found  out  in  his  good  intentions.  But  if 
Bright  was  a  very  normal  being,  Ralston  was  a 
very  abnormal  one,  and  was,  to  some  extent,  a 
weak  man,  though  not  easily  influenced  by  strong 
men.  A  glance  at  his  face  would  have  convinced 
any  one  of  that  —  a  keen,  nervous,  dark  face,  with 
those  deep  lines  from  the  nostrils  to  the  corners 
of  the  mouth  which  denote  uncertain,  and  even 
dangerous  tempers  —  a  square,  bony  jaw,  aggres 
sive  rather  than  firm,  but  not  coarse  —  the  nose, 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  3 

aquiline  but  delicate  —  the  eyes,  brown,  restless, 
and  bright,  the  prominence  of  the  temples  con 
cealing  the  eyelids  entirely  when  raised  —  the 
forehead,  broad,  high,  and  visibly  lean  like  all  the 
features  —  the  hair,  black  and  straight — the  cheek 
bones,  moderately  prominent.  Possibly  John  Eals- 
ton  had  a  dash  of  the  Indian  in  his  physical  in 
heritance,  which  showed  itself,  as  it  almost  always 
does,  in  a  melancholic  disposition,  great  endurance 
and  an  unnatural  love  of  excitement  in  almost  any 
shape,  together  with  an  inborn  idleness  which  it 
was  hard  to  overcome. 

Nothing  is  more  difficult  than  to  convey  by  words 
what  should  be  understood  by  actual  seeing.  There 
are  about  fifteen  hundred  million  human  beings 
alive  to-day,  no  two  of  whom  are  exactly  alike,  and 
we  have  really  but  a  few  hundreds  of  words  with 
which  to  describe  any  human  being  at  all.  The 
argument  that  a  few  octaves  of  notes  furnish  all 
the  music  there  is,  cannot  be  brought  against  us 
as  a  reproach.  We  cannot  speak  a  dozen  words  at 
once  and  produce  a  single  impression,  any  more 
than  we  can  put  the  noun  before  the  article  as  we 
may  strike  any  one  note  before  or  after  another. 
So  I  have  made  acknowledgment  of  inability  to 
do  the  impossible,  and  apology  for  not  being  super 
human. 

John  Kalston  was  dark,  good-looking,  nervous, 
excitable,  enduring,  and  decidedly  dissipated,  at 


4  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

the  age  of  five  and  twenty  years,  which  he  had 
lately  attained  at  the  time  of  the  present  tale. 
Of  his  other  gifts,  peculiarities  and  failings,  his 
speech,  conversation  and  actions  will  give  an 
account.  As  for  his  position  in  life,  he  was  the 
only  son  of  Katharine  Ralston,  widow  of  Admiral 
Ralston  of  the  United  States  Navy,  who  had  been 
dead  several  years. 

Mrs.  Ralston's  maiden  name  had  been  Lander- 
dale,  and  she  was  of  Scotch  descent.  Her  cousin, 
Alexander  Lauderdale,  married  a  Miss  Camper- 
down,  a  Roman  Catholic  girl  of  a  Kentucky 
family,  and  had  two  children,  both  daughters, 
the  elder  of  whom  was  Mrs.  Benjamin  Slayback, 
wife  of  the  well-known  member  of  Congress. 
The  younger  was  Katharine  Lauderdale,  named 
after  her  father's  cousin,  Mrs.  Ralston,  and  she 
was  the  dark  cousin  whom  John  admired. 

Hamilton  Bright  was  a  distant  relative  to  both  of 
these  persons.  But  by  his  father's  side  he  had  not 
originally  belonged  to  New  York,  as  the  others  did, 
but  had  settled  there  after  spending  some  years  of 
his  early  youth  in  California  and  Nevada,  and  had 
gone  into  business.  At  four  and  thirty  he  was  the 
junior  partner  in  the  important  firm  of  Beman 
Brothers  and  Company,  Bankers,  who  had  a  mag 
nificent  building  of  their  own  in  Broad  Street,  and 
were  very  solidly  prosperous,  having  shown  them 
selves  to  be  among  the  fittest  to  survive  the  finan- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  5 

cial  storms  of  the  last  half  century.  Ralston' s 
friend  was  a  strong,  squarely  built,  very  fair  man, 
of  what  is  generally  called  the  Saxon  type.  At 
first  sight,  he  inspired  confidence,  and  his  clear 
blue  eyes  were  steady  and  true.  He  had  that 
faculty  of  looking  almost  superhumanly  neat  and 
spotless  under  all  circumstances,  which  is  the  pre 
rogative  of  men  with  straight,  flaxen  hair,  pink 
and  white  complexions,  and  perfect  teeth.  It  was 
easy  to  predict  that  he  would  become  too  stout 
with  advancing  years,  and  he  was  already  a  heavy 
man,  though  not  more  than  half  an  inch  taller  than 
his  friend  and  distant  cousin,  John  Ralston.  But 
no  one  would  have  believed  at  first  sight  that  he 
was  nine  years  older  than  the  latter. 

The  nature  of  friendship  between  men  has  been 
almost  as  much  discussed  as  that  of  love  between 
man  and  woman,  but  with  very  different  results. 
He  laughs  at  the  idea  of  friendship  who  turns  a 
little  pale  at  the  memory  of  love.  At  all  events, 
most  of  us  feel  that  friendship  is  generally  a  less 
certain  and  undeniable  thing,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
harder  to  exclude  from  it  the  element  of  personal 
interest  and  advantage.  The  fact  probably  is,  that 
no  one  person  can  possibly  combine  all  the  elements 
supposed  to  make  up  what  every  one  means  by 
friendship.  It  would  be  far  more  reasonable  to 
construct  one  friendship  out  of  many  persons, 
securing  in  each  of  them  one  at  least  of  the  quali- 


6  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

ties  necessary.  For  instance,  the  discreet  man,  to 
whom  it  is  safe  to  tell  secrets  when  they  must  be 
told  at  all,  is  not  as  a  matter  of  course  the  man 
most  capable  of  giving  the  best  advice ;  nor,  if  a 
certain  individual  is  extremely  generous  and  ready 
to  lend  all  he  has  to  his  friend,  does  it  follow  that 
he  possesses  the  tough,  manly  nature  that  will  face 
public  scorn  rather  than  abandon  that  friend  in  his 
hour  of  need.  Some  men,  too,  want  sympathy 
in  their  troubles,  and  will  have  it,  even  at  the 
cost  of  common  sense.  Others  need  encourage 
ment;  others,  again,  need  most  of  all  to  be  told 
the  unpleasant  truth  about  themselves  in  the  most 
pleasant  form  practicable.  Altogether  it  seems 
probable  that  the  ideal  friend  must  either  be  an 
altogether  superhuman  personage,  or  a  failure  in 
so  far  as  his  own  life  is  concerned. 

Hamilton  Bright  approached  as  nearly  to  that 
ideal  as  his  humanity  would  allow.  He  did  not  in 
the  least  trouble  himself  to  find  out  why  he  liked 
Kalston,  and  wished  to  be  of  service  to  him,  and 
he  wisely  asked  for  nothing  whatever  in  return  for 
what  he  gave.  But  he  was  very  far  from  looking 
up  to  him,  and  perhaps  even  from  respecting  him 
as  he  wished  that  he  might.  He  simply  liked  him 
better  than  other  men,  and  stood  by  him  when  he 
needed  help,  which  often  happened. 

They  left  the  florist's  window  and  walked  slowly 
up  Fifth  Avenue.  John  Kalston  was  a  born  New 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  1 

Yorker  and  preferred  his  own  city  to  any  other 
place  in  the  world  with  that  solid,  satisfactory, 
unreasoning  prejudice  which  belongs  especially  to 
New  Yorkers  and  Parisians,  and  of  which  it  is 
useless  to  attempt  any  explanation.  Hamilton 
Bright,  on  the  contrary,  often  wished  himself 
away,  and  in  spite  of  his  excessively  correct  ap 
pearance  even  the  easy  formality  of  American  met 
ropolitan  life  was  irksome  to  him.  He  had  loved 
the  West,  and  in  the  midst  of  great  interests  and 
advantages,  he  regretted  his  former  existence  and 
daily  longed  for  the  clearer  air  and  bolder  breath 
of  Nevada.  The  only  objects  about  which  he 
ever  displayed  much  enthusiasm  were  silver  and 
cattle,  about  which  Ralston  knew  nothing  and 
cared  less. 

"When  is  it  to  be?"  asked  Bright  after  a  long 
silence. 

Ealston  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"What?"  he  asked  in  a  short  tone. 

Bright  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  was  rather  dull  and  low. 

"When  are  you  going  to  be  married?  Every 
body  knows  that  you  are  engaged." 

"Then  everybody  is  wrong.     I  am  not  engaged." 

"  Oh  —  I  thought  you  were.     All  right. " 

Another  pause  followed  and  they  walked  on. 

"Alexander  Junior  said  I  was  a  failure,"  ob 
served  Ralston  at  last.  "  That  was  some  time  ago." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  Oh  —  was  that  the  trouble?  " 

Bright  did  not  seem  to  expect  any  reply  to  the 
question,  but  his  tone  was  thoughtful. 

"Yes,"  answered  Ralston,  with  a  short,  discon 
tented  laugh.  "  He  said  that  I  was  of  no  use  what 
ever,  that  I  never  did  anything  and  never  should." 

"That  settled  it,  I  suppose." 

"Yes.  That  settled  it.  There  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said  —  on  his  side,  at  least." 

"And  how  about  your  side?" 

"We  shall  see." 

Ralston  shut  his  lips  viciously  and  his  clean-cut, 
prominent  chin  looked  determined  enough. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  his  friend,  "that  Alexander 
Junior  was  not  so  awfully  far  wrong  —  about  the 
past,  at  all  events.  You  never  did  anything  in 
your  life  except  make  yourself  agreeable.  And  you 
don't  seem  to  have  succeeded  in  that  with  him." 

"Oh,  he  used  to  think  me  agreeable  enough," 
laughed  the  younger  man.  "He  used  to  play  bil 
liards  with  me  by  the  month  for  his  liver,  and 
then  call  me  idle  for  playing  with  him.  I  suppose 
that  if  I  had  given  up  billiards  he  would  have  been 
impressed  with  the  idea  that  I  was  about  to  reform. 
It  wouldn't  have  cost  me  much.  I  hated  the 
stupid  game  and  only  played  to  amuse  him." 

"All  the  same  — I  wish  I  had  your  chances  — I 
mean,  I  wish  I  may  have  as  good  a  chance  as  you, 
when  I  think  of  getting  married.'' 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  9 

"  My  chances ! "  Ralston  did  not  smile  now, 
and  his  tone  was  harsh  as  he  repeated  the  words. 
He  glanced  at  his  companion.  "  When  will  that 
be?"  he  asked  after  a  moment's  pause.  "Why 
don't  you  get  married,  Ham?  I've  often  won 
dered.  But  then  —  you're  so  cursedly  reasonable 
about  every  tiling!  I  suppose  you'll  stick  to  the 
single  ticket  as  long  as  you  have  strength  to  resist, 
and  then  you'll  marry  a  nurse.  Wise  man!  " 

"Thank  you.     You're  as  encouraging  as  usual." 

"You  don't  need  encouragement  a  bit,  old  man. 
You're  so  full  of  it  anyhow,  that  you  can  spare  a 
lot  for  other  people.  You  have  a  deuced  good 
effect  on  my  liver,  Ham.  Do  you  know  it?  You 
ought  to  look  pleased." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  am.  I  only  wish  the  encourage 
ment  might  last  a  little  longer." 

"  I  can't  help  being  gloomy  sometimes  —  rather 
often,  I  ought  to  say.  I  fancy  I'm  a  born  under 
taker,  or  something  to  do  with  funerals.  I've  tried 
a  lot  of  other  things  for  a  few  days  and  failed  —  I 
think  I'll  try  that.  By  the  by,  I'm  very  thirsty 
and  here's  the  Hoffman  House." 

"It's  not  far  to  the  club,  if  you  want  to  drink," 
observed  Bright,  stopping  on  the  pavement. 

"You  needn't  come  in,  if  you  think  it's  damag 
ing  to  your  reputation,"  answered  Kalston. 

"My  reputation  would  stand  a  good  deal  of 
knocking  about,"  laughed  Bright.  "I  think  my 


10  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

character  would  bear  three  nights  a  week  in  a 
Bowery  saloon  and  spare  time  put  in  now  and  then 
in  a  University  Place  bar,  without  any  particular 
harm. " 

"  By  Jove !     I  wish  mine  would !  " 

" It  won't,"  said  Bright.  "But  I  wasn't  think 
ing  of  your  reputation,  nor  of  anything  especial 
except  that  things  are  generally  better  at  a  club 
than  at  a  hotel. " 

"The  Brut  is  good  here.  I've  tried  it  —  often. 
Come  along." 

"  I'll  wait  for  you  outside.     I'm  not  thirsty." 

"I  told  you  so,"  retorted  Italston.  "You're 
afraid  somebody  will  see  you." 

"  You're  an  idiot,  Jack!  " 

Thereupon  Bright  led  the  way  into  the  gorgeous 
bar,  a  place  probably  unique  in  the  world.  A 
number  of  pictures  by  great  French  masters  hang 
on  the  walls  —  pictures  unrivalled,  perhaps,  in 
beauty  of  execution  and  insolence  of  conception. 
The  rest  is  a  blaze  of  polished  marble  and  wood 
work  and  gleaming  metal. 

lialston  nodded  to  the  bar-tender. 

"What  will  you  have?"  he  asked,  turning  to 
Bright. 

"Nothing,  thanks.     I'm  not  thirsty." 

"Oh  —  all  right,"  answered  Ralston  discontent 
edly.  "I'll  have  a  pint  of  Irroy  Brut  with  a  bit 
of  lemon  peel  in  it.  Champagne  isn't  wine  —  it's 


A  place  probably  unique  in  the  world."— Vol.  I.,  p.  10. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  11 

only  a  beverage,"  he  added,  turning  to  Bright  as 
though  to  explain  his  reasons  for  wanting  so  much. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Bright,  lighting  a 
cigar.  "  Champagne  isn't  wine,  and  it's  not  fit  to 
drink  at  the  best.  Either  give  me  wine  that  is 
wine,  or  give  me  whiskey." 

"Whichever  you  like." 

" Did  you  say  whiskey,  sir?"  enquired  the  bar 
tender,  who  was  in  the  act  of  rubbing  the  rim  of  a 
pint  glass  with  a  lemon  peel. 

"Nothing,  thank  you.  I'm  not  thirsty,"  an 
swered  Bright  a  third  time. 

"  Hallo,  Bright,  my  little  man !  What  are  you 
doing  here?  Oh  —  Jack  Ralston  —  I  see." 

The  speaker  was  a  very  minute  and  cheerful 
specimen  of  human  New  York  club  life,  —  pink- 
cheeked,  black-eyed,  neat  and  brisk,  not  more  than 
five  feet  six  inches  in  height,  round  as  a  little  bar 
rel,  with  tiny  hands  and  feet.  He  watched  Rals 
ton,  as  soon  as  he  noticed  him.  The  bar-tender 
had  emptied  the  pint  bottle  of  champagne  into  the 
glass  and  Ralston  had  set  it  to  his  lips  with  the 
evident  intention  of  finishing  it  at  a  draught. 

"  Hold  on,  Jack !  "  cried  Frank  Miner,  the  small 
man.  "  I  say  —  easy  there !  You'll  have  apoplexy 
or  something  —  I  say  —  " 

"Don't  speak  to  a  man  on  his  drink,  Frank," 
said  Bright,  calmly.  "  When  I  drove  cattle  in  the 
Nacimiento  Valley  we  used  to  shoot  for  that." 


12  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"I  shall  avoid  that  place,"  answered  Miner. 
Ralston  drew  a  long  breath  as  he  set  down  the 
empty  glass. 

"I   wanted    that,"   he    said,    half    to   himself. 
"Hallo,    Frank  — is   that   you?      What   will   you 
have?" 

"  Nothing  —  now  —  thank  you, "  answered  Miner. 
"  I've  satisfied  my  thirst  and  cured  my  tendency  to 
vice  by  seeing  you  take  that  down.  You're  a 
beautiful  sight  and  an  awful  example  for  a  thirsty 
man.  Get  photographed,  Jack  —  they  could  sell 
lots  of  copies  at  temperance  meetings.  Heard  the 
story  about  the  temperance  tracts?  Stop  me  if 
you  have.  Man  went  out  to  sell  teetotal  tracts  in 
Missouri.  Came  back  and  his  friends  were  sur 
prised  to  see  him  alive.  'Never  had  such  a  good 
time  in  my  life,'  said  he.  'Every  man  to  whom  I 
offered  a  tract  pulled  out  a  pistol  and  said,  "  Drink 
or  I'll  shoot."  And  here  I  am. '  There's  a  chance 
for  you,  Jack,  when  you  get  stuck." 

Bright  and  Ralston  laughed  at  the  little  man's 
story  and  all  three  turned  and  left  the  bar-room 
together. 

"Seen  the  old  gentleman  lately?"  enquired 
Frank  Miner,  as  they  came  out  upon  the  pavement. 

"Do  you  mean  uncle  Robert?"  asked  Bright. 

"Yes  — cousin  Robert,  as  we  call  him." 

"  It  always  amuses  me  to  hear  a  little  chap  like 
you  calling  that  old  giant  'cousin,' "  said  Bright. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  13 

"He  likes  it.  It  makes  him  feel  frisky.  Be 
sides,  he  is  a  sort  of  cousin.  My  uncle  Thompson 
married  Margaret  Lauderdale  —  " 

"Oh,  yes  —  I  know  all  about  the  genealogy," 
laughed  Bright. 

"Who  was  Eobert  Lauderdale's  own  cousin," 
continued  Miner.  "  And  as  Eobert  Lauderdale  is 
your  great-uncle  and  Jack  Ealston's  great-uncle, 
that  makes  you  second  cousins  to  each  other  and 
makes  me  your  —  let  me  see  —  both  —  " 

"  Shut  up,  Frank !  "  exclaimed  Ealston.  "  You've 
got  it  all  wrong  again.  Uncle  Eobert  isn't 
Bright's  great-uncle.  He's  first  cousin  to  your 
deceased  aunt  Margaret,  who  was  Bright's  grand 
mother,  and  you're  first  cousin  to  his  mother  and 
first  cousin,  once  removed,  to  him;  and  he's  my 
third  cousin  and  you're  no  relation  to  me  at  all, 
except  by  your  uncle's  marriage,  and  if  you  want 
to  know  anything  more  about  it  you  have  your 
choice  between  the  family  Bible  and  the  Blooming- 
dale  insane  asylum  —  which  is  a  quiet,  healthy 
place,  well  situated." 

"Well  then,  what  relation  am  I  to  my  cousin 
Eobert?  "  asked  Miner,  with  a  grin. 

"An  imaginary  relation,  my  dear  boy." 

"Oh,  I  say!  And  his  being  my  very  own  aunt 
by  marriage's  own  cousin  is  not  to  count  for  any 
thing,  because  you  two  are  such  big  devils  and  I 
am  only  a  light  weight,  and  you  could  polish  your 


14  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

boots  with  me  if  I  made  a  fuss!  It's  too  bad! 
Upon  my  word,  brute  force  rules  society  as  much 
as  it  ever  did  in  the  middle  ages.  So  there  goes 
my  long-cherished  claim  upon  a  rich  relation. 
However,  you've  destroyed  the  illusion  so  often 
before  that  I  know  how  to  resurrect  it." 

"For  that  matter,"  said  Bright,  "the  fact  is 
about  as  illusory  as  the  illusion  itself.  If  you 
insist  upon  being  considered  as  one  of  the  Lauder- 
dale  tribe,  we're  glad  to  have  you  on  your  own 
merits  —  but  you'll  get  nothing  out  of  it  but  the 
glory  —  " 

"  I  know.  It  gives  me  a  fictitious  air  of  respec 
tability  to  be  one  of  you.  Besides,  you  should  be 
proud  to  have  a  man  of  letters  —  " 

"Say  an  author  at  once,"  suggested  Ralston. 

"No.  I'm  honest,  if  I'm  anything,  —  which 
is  doubtful.  A  man  of  letters,  I  say,  can  be  use 
ful  in  a  family.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  Jack 
invented  an  electric  street-dog,  or  —  " 

"  What?  "  enquired  Ralston,  with  a  show  of  inter 
est.  "  An  electric  what?  " 

"I  was  only  thinking  of  something  new,"  said 
Miner,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  thought  you  said,  an  electric  street-dog  —  " 

"I  did  —  yes.  Something  of  that  sort,  just  for 
illustration.  I  believe  they  had  one  at  Chicago,  with 
an  india-rubber  puppy, —at  least,  if  they  didn't, 
they  ought  to  have  had  it,  — but  anything  of  the 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  15 

kind  would  do  —  self-drying  champagne  —  any 
thing!  Suppose  that  Jack  invented  something 
useful  like  that,  I  could  write  it  up  in  the  papers, 
and  get  up  advertisements  for  it,  and  help  the 
family  to  get  rich." 

"Is  that  the  sort  of  literature  you  cultivate?" 
asked  Bright. 

"  Oh,  no !  Much  more  flowery  —  quite  like  the 
flowers  of  the  field  in  some  ways,  for  it  cometh  up 
—  to  the  editor's  office  —  in  the  morning,  and  in 
the  evening,  if  not  sooner,  it  is  cut  down  —  by  the 
editor  —  dried  up,  and  withered,  or  otherwise  dis 
posed  of,  so  that  it  cannot  be  said  to  reach  the  gen 
eral  public." 

"Not  very  paying,  I  should  think." 

"  Well  —  not  to  me.  But  of  course,  if  there  were 
not  so  much  of  it  offered  to  the  magazines  and 
papers,  there  wouldn't  be  so  many  people  employed 
by  them  to  read  and  reject  articles.  So  somebody 
gets  a  living  out  of  it.  I  console  myself  with  the 
certainty  that  my  efforts  help  to  keep  at  least  one 
man  in  every  office  from  starvation.  I  spoke  to 
cousin  Robert  about  it  and  he  seemed  rather  pleased 
by  the  idea,  and  said  that  he  would  mention  it  to 
his  brother,  old  Mr.  Alexander,  who's  a  philan 
thropist  —  " 

"Call  him  cousin  Alexander,"  suggested  Rals 
ton.  "Why  do  you  make  any  distinction?" 

"  Because  he's  not  the  rich  one,"  answered  Miner, 


16  KATHARINE  LAU  DEED  ALE. 

imperturbably.  "He'll  be  promoted  to  be  my 
cousin,  if  the  fortune  is  left  to  him." 

"Then  I'm  afraid  he'll  continue  to  languish 
among  your  non-cousin  acquaintances." 

"Why  shouldn't  lie  inherit  the  bulk  of  the 
property?"  enquired  Miner,  speaking  more  seri 
ously. 

"Because  he's  a  philanthropist,  and  would  spend 
it  all  on  idiots  and  'fresh  air  funds,'  and  things  of 
that  sort." 

"There  is  Alexander  Junior,"  suggested  Miner. 
"  He's  careful  enough,  I'm  sure.  I  suppose  it 
will  go  to  him." 

"I  doubt  that,  too,"  said  Bright.  "Alexander 
Junior  goes  to  the  opposite  extreme.  However, 
Jack  knows  more  about  that  than  I  do  —  and  is  a 
nearer  relation,  besides." 

"Ham  is  right,"  answered  John  Ralston, 
thoughtfully.  "  Cousin  Sandy  is  the  most  villain 
ous,  infernal,  steel-trap-fingered,  -patent-locked  old 
miser  that  ever  sat  down  in  a  cellar  chinking  money 
bags." 

"There's  a  certain  force  about  your  language," 
observed  Miner. 

"I  believe  he's  not  rich,"  said  Bright.  "So  he 
has  an  excuse." 

"Poor!"  exclaimed  Ralston,  contemptuously. 
"I'm  poor." 

"I  wish  I  were,  then  —  in  your  way,"  returned 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  17 

Miner.  "That  was  Irroy  Brut,  I  noticed.  It 
looked  awfully  good.  It's  true  that  you  haven't 
two  daughters,  as  your  cousin  Sandy  has." 

"  Nor  a  millionaire  son-in-law  —  like  Ben  Slay- 
back,  —  Slayback  of  Nevada  he  is,  in  the  Con 
gressional  Record,  because  there's  another  from 
somewhere  else." 

"He  wears  a  green  tie,"  said  Miner,  softly.  "I 
saw  him  two  years  ago,  before  he  and  Charlotte 
were  married." 

"  I  know, "  answered  Ralston.  "  Cousin  Katharine 
hates  him,  I  believe.  Uncle  Robert  will  probably 
leave  the  whole  fortune  in  trust  for  Slayback's 
children.  There's  a  little  boy.  They  say  he  has 
red  hair,  like  his  father,  and  they  have  christened 
him  Alexander  —  merely  as  an  expression  of  hope. 
It  would  be  just  like  uncle  Eobert." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Bright.  "But  as  for 
Slayback,  don't  abuse  him  till  you  know  him 
better.  -I  knew  him  out  West,  years  ago.  He's  a 
brick." 

"He  is  precisely  the  colour  of  one,"  retorted 
Ealston. 

"Don't  be  spiteful,  Jack." 

"I'm  not  spiteful.  I  daresay  he's  full  of  vir 
tue,  as  all  horrid  people  are  —  inside.  The  out 
side  of  him  is  one  of  nature's  finest  failures,  and 
his  manners  are  awful  always  —  and  worse  when 
he  tries  to  polish  them  for  the  evening.  He's  a 


18  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

corker,  a  thing  to  scare  sharks  with  —  it  doesn't 
follow  that  he's  been  a  train-wrecker  or  a  default 
ing  cashier,  and  I  didn't  say  it  did.  Oh,  yes  —  I 
know  —  handsome  is  that  puts  its  hand  into  its 
pocket,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Give  me  some  soda 
water  with  a  proverb  in  it  —  that  confounded  Irroy 
wasn't  dry  enough." 

Frank  Miner  looked  up  into  Bright's  eyes  and 
smiled  surreptitiously.  He  was  walking  between 
his  two  taller  companions.  Bright  glanced  at 
Ralston's  lean,  nervous  face,  and, saw  that  the  lines 
of  ill-temper  had  deepened  during  the  last  quarter 
of  an  hour.  It  was  not  probable  that  a  pint  of 
wine  could  alone  have  any  perceptible  effect  on  the 
man's  head,  but  it  was  impossible  to  know  what 
potations  had  preceded  the  draught. 

"No,"  said  Bright.  "Such  speeches  as  that  are 
not  spiteful.  They're  foolish.  Besides,  Slayback's 
a  friend  of  mine." 

Miner  looked  up  again,  but  in  surprise.  Ralston 
turned  sharply  on  Bright. 

"  I  say,  Ham  —  "  he  began. 

"All  right,  Jack,"  Bright  interrupted,  striding 
steadily  along.  "We're  not  going  to  quarrel. 
Stand  up  for  your  friends,  and  I'll  stand  up  for 
mine.  That's  all." 

"I  haven't  any,"  answered  Ralston,  growing 
suddenly  gloomy  again. 

"Oh!  Well  —  so  much  the  better  for  you,  then." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  19 

For  a  few  moments  no  one  spoke  again.  Miner 
broke  the  silence.  He  was  a  cheerful  little  soul, 
and  hated  anything  like  an  unpleasant  situation. 

"  Heard  about  the  cow  and  the  collar-stud,  Jack?  " 
he  enquired,  by  way  of  coming  to  the  rescue. 

"  Chestnut !  "  growled  Ralston. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Miner,  who  was  neverthe 
less  convinced  that  Ralston  had  not  heard  the  joke. 
"  I  wasn't  going  to  tell  it.  It  only  struck  me  just 
then." 

"Why?"  asked  Bright,  who  failed  to  see  any 
connection  between  a  cow,  a  stud  and  Ralston' s  bad 
humour. 

"  The  trouble  with  you,  Bright,  is  that  you're  so 
painfully  literal,"  returned  Miner,  who  had  got 
himself  into  a  conversational  difficulty.  "  Now  I 
was  thinking  of  a  figurative  cow." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  "  enquired  Bright, 
inexorably. 

"It's  very  simple,  I'm  sure.     Isn't  it,  Jack?" 

"Perfectly,"  answered  Ralston,  absently,  as  he 
watched  a  figure  that  attracted  his  attention  fifty 
yards  ahead  of  him. 

"  There !  "  exclaimed  Miner,  triumphantly.  "  Jack 
saw  it  at  once.  Of  course,  if  you  want  me  to 
explain  anything  so  perfectly  idiotic  —  " 

"Oh,  don't  bother,  I'm  stupid  to-day,"  said 
Bright,  completely  mystified. 

"What's   the    joke,    anyhow?"  asked   Ralston, 


20  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

suddenly  realizing  that  Miner  had  spoken  to  him. 
"  I  said  I  understood,  but  I  didn't,  in  the  least.  I 
was  thinking  about  that  —  about  Slayback  —  and 
then  I  saw  somebody  I  knew,  and  I  didn't  hear 
what  you  said." 

"You  didn't  lose  much,"  answered  Miner.  "I 
should  be  sincerely  grateful  if  you'd  drop  the 
subject,  which  is  a  painful  one  with  me.  If 
anything  can  touch  me  to  the  quick,  it's  the 
horrible  certainty  that  I've  pulled  the  trigger  and 
that  the  joke  hasn't  gone  off,  not  even  flashed  in  the 
pan,  or  fizzled,  or  sputtered  and  petered  out,  or  even 
raised  itself  to  the  level  of  a  decent  failure,  fit  for 
immediate  burial  if  for  nothing  else." 

"You're  getting  a  little  mixed  in  your  similes, 
Frank,"  observed  Bright. 

"The  last  one  reminds  me  of  what  Bright  and 
I  were  talking  of  before  you  joined  us,  Frank," 
said  Ralston. 

"Burial?" 

"The  next  thing  before  it  —  undertakers.  I'm 
thinking  of  becoming  one.  Bright  says  it's  the 
only  thing  I've  not  tried,  and  that  as  I  have  the 
elements  of  success  in  my  character,  I  must  neces 
sarily  succeed  in  that.  There's  a  large  establish 
ment  of  the  kind  in  Sixth  Avenue,  not  far  from 
here.  I  think  I'll  call  and  see  a  member  of  the 
firm." 

"All    right,"    assented    Miner,    with   a   laugh. 


RATHAKINE  LAUDEEDALE.  21 

"Take  me  in  with  you  as  epitaph-writer.  I'll 
treat  your  bodies  to  a  display  of  the  English  lan 
guage  that  will  make  them  sit  up." 

"I  believe  you  could!  "  exclaimed  Bright,  with  a 
laugh. 

Ralston  turned  to  the  left,  into  Thirty-second 
Street.  His  companions,  quite  indifferent  as  to 
the  direction  they  took,  followed  his  lead. 

"I'm  going  to  do  it,  Ham,  you  know,"  said 
Ralston,  as  they  walked  along. 

"What?" 

"I'm  going  to  the  undertaker's  in  Sixth  Avenue." 

"All  right  —  if  you  think  it  amusing." 

"We'll  all  go.  It's  appropriate  to  go  as  a  body, 
if  one  goes  there  at  all." 

"Frank,"  said  Bright,  gravely,  "be  funny  if  you 
can.  Be  ghastly  if  you  like.  But  if  you  make 
puns,  make  them  at  a  man  of  your  own  size.  It's 
safer." 

The  little  man  chirped  pleasantly  in  answer,  as 
he  trotted  along  between  the  two.  He  believed, 
innocently  enough,  that  Bright  and  Ralston  had 
been  at  the  point  of  a  quarrel,  and  that  he  had 
saved  the  situation  with  his  nonsense. 

At  the  end  of  the  street,  where  it  makes  a  cor 
ner  with  Broadway,  stands  a  big  hotel.  Ralston 
glanced  at  the  door  on  Thirty-second  Street,  which 
is  the  ladies'  entrance,  and  stopped  in  his  walk. 

"  I  want  to  leave  a  card  on  some  people  at  the 


22  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Imperial,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment." 
And  he  disappeared  within. 

Bright  and  Miner  stood  waiting  outside. 

"  Do  you  believe  that  —  about  leaving  a  card  ?  " 
asked  Miner,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Bright. 

"Because  I  think  he's  got  the  beginning  of 
a  'jag'  on  him  now.  He's  gone  in  for  some 
thing  short  to  settle  that  long  drink.  Pity,  isn't 
it?" 

Bright  did  not  answer  at  once. 

"  I  say,  Frank,"  he  said  at  last,  "  don't  talk  about 
Jack's  drinking — there's  a  good  fellow.  He'll  get 
over  it  all  right,  some  day." 

"  People  do  talk  about  it  a  good  deal,"  answered 
Miner.  "  I  don't  think  I'm  worse  than  other 
people,  and  I'll  try  to  talk  less.  But  it's  been 
pretty  bad,  lately.  The  trouble  is,  you  can't  tell 
just  how  far  gone  he  is.  He  has  a  strong  head  — 
up  to  a  certain  point,  and  then  he's  a  fiend,  all  at 
once.  And  he's  always  quarrelsome,  even  when 
he's  sober,  so  that's  no  sign." 

"  Poor  chap !  He  inherits  it  to  some  extent. 
His  father  could  drink  more  than  most  men,  and 
generally  did." 

"  Yes.  I  met  a  man  the  other  day  —  a  fellow 
in  the  Navy — who  told  me  they  had  no  end  of 
stories  of  the  old  Admiral.  But  no  one  ever  saw 
him  the  worse  for  it." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  23 

"That's  true  enough.  But  no  nerves  will  last 
through  two  generations  of  whiskey." 

"I  suppose  not."  Miner  paused.  "You  see," 
he  continued,  presently,  "he  could  have  left  his 
card  in  half  the  time  he's  been  in  there.  Come 
in.  We  shall  find  him  at  the  bar." 

"No,"  said  Bright.  "I  won't  spy  on  him.  I 
shouldn't  like  it  myself." 

"  And  he  says  he  has  no  friends ! "  exclaimed 
Miner,  not  without  admiration. 

"  Oh,  that's  only  his  way  when  he's  cross.  Not 
that  his  friends  are  of  any  use  to  him.  He'll  have 
to  work  out  his  own  salvation  alone  —  or  his  own 
damnation,  poor  devil ! " 

Before  Miner  made  any  answer,  Ralston  came 
out  again.  His  face  looked  drawn  and  weary  and 
there  were  dark  shadows  under  his  eyes.  He 
stood  still  a  moment  on  the  threshold  of  the  door, 
looked  deliberately  to  the  left,  towards  Broadway, 
then  to  the  right,  along  the  street,  and  at  last  at 
his  friends.  Then  he  slowly  lighted  a  cigarette, 
brushed  a  tiny  particle  of  ash  from  the  sleeve  of  his 
rough  black  coat  and  came  out  upon  the  pavement, 
with  a  quick,  decided  step. 

"  Now  then,  I'm  ready  for  the  undertaker,"  he 
said,  with  a  sour  smile.  "  Sorry  to  have  kept  you 
waiting  so  long,"  he  added,  as  though  by  an  after 
thought. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Miner,  cheerfully. 


24  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Bright  said  nothing,  and  his  quiet,  healthy  face 
expressed  nothing.  But  as  they  went  towards  the 
crossing  of  Broadway,  he  was  walking  beside  Rals 
ton,  instead  of  letting  little  Frank  Miner  keep 
his  place  in  the  middle. 


CHAPTEE   II. 

IT  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  and 
Broadway  was  crowded,  as  it  generally  is  at  that 
time  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  normal  life  of  a 
great  city,  the  crowd  flows  and  ebbs  in  the  thorough 
fares  as  regularly  as  the  blood  in  a  living  body. 
From  that  mysterious,  grey  hour,  when  the  first 
distant  rumble  is  heard  in  the  deserted  streets, 
just  before  the  outlines  of  the  chimneys  become 
distinct  against  the  clouds  or  the  murky  sky,  when 
the  night-worker  and  the  man  of  pleasure,  the 
day-labourer  and  the  dawn,  all  meet  for  a  brief 
moment  at  one  of  the  crossings  in  daily  life's 
labyrinth,  through  all  the  four  and  twenty  hours 
in  which  each  pulsation  is  completed,  until  that 
dull,  far-off  roll  of  the  earliest  cart  echoes  again, 
followed  within  a  few  minutes  by  many  others,  — 
round  and  round  the  clock  again,  with  unfailing 
exactness,  you  may  note  the  same  rise  and  fall  of 
the  life-stream. 

The  point  at  which  Kalston  and  his  companions 

crossed  Broadway  is  a  particularly  busy  one.     It 

is  near  many  of  the  principal  theatres;  there  are 

a   number    of   big   hotels    in   the    neighbourhood; 

25 


26  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

there  are  some  fashionable  shops ;  it  is  only  one 
short  block  from  the  junction  of  Broadway  and 
Sixth  Avenue,  where  there  is  an  important  station 
of  the  elevated  road,  and  there  are  the  usual  carts, 
vans  and  horse-cars  chasing  each  other  up  and 
down,  and  not  leaving  even  enough  road  for  two 
carriages  to  pass  one  another  on  either  side  of 
the  tracks.  The  streams  of  traffic  meet  noisily, 
and  thump  and  bump  and  jostle  through  the 
difficulty,  and  a  man  standing  there  may  watch 
the  expression  change  in  all  the  faces  as  they 
approach  the  point.  The  natural  look  disappears 
for  a  moment;  the  eyes  glance  nervously  to  the 
right  and  left ;  the  lips  are  set  as  though  for  an 
effort;  the  very  carriage  of  the  body  is  different, 
as  though  the  muscles  were  tightened  for  an  exer 
tion  which  the  frame  may  or  may  not  be  called 
upon  to  make  instantly  without  warning.  It  is 
an  odd  sight,  though  one  which  few  people  see, 
every  one  being  concerned  to  some  extent  for 
his  own  safety,  and  oblivious  of  his  neighbour's 
dangers. 

Ralston  and  the  others  stood  at  the  corner  wait 
ing  for  an  opportunity  to  pass.  There  was  a 
momentary  interruption  of  the  line  of  vehicles  on 
the  up-town  side,  which  was  nearest  to  them. 
Ralston  stepped  forward  first  toward  the  track. 
Glancing  to  the  left,  he  saw  a  big  express  cart 
coming  up  at  full  speed,  and  on  the  other  track, 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  27 

from  his  right  as  he  stood,  a  horse-car  was  coming 
down,  followed  at  some  distance  by  a  large,  empty 
van.  The  horse-car  was  nearest  to  him,  and  passed 
the  corner  briskly.  A  small  boy,  wheeling  an  empty 
perambulator  and  leading  a  good-looking  rough  ter 
rier  by  a  red  string,  crossed  towards  Ralston  be 
tween  the  horse-car  and  the  van,  dragging  the  dog 
after  him,  and  was  about  to  cross  the  other  track 
when  he  saw  that  the  express  cart  rattling  up  town 
was  close  upon  him.  He  paused,  and  drew  back  a 
little  to  let  it  pass,  pulling  back  his  perambulator, 
which,  however,  caught  sideways  between  the  rails. 
At  the  same  instant  the  clanging  bell  and  the  clat 
ter  of  a  fire  engine,  followed  by  a  hook  and  ladder 
cart,  and  driven  at  full  speed,  produced  a  sudden 
commotion,  and  the  man  who  was  driving  the 
empty  van  looked  backward  and  hastened  his 
horses,  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  way.  In  the 
confusion  the  little  boy  and  his  perambulator  were 
in  danger  of  annihilation. 

Ralston  jumped  the  track,  snatched  the  boy  in 
one  arm  and  lifted  the  perambulator  bodily  with 
his  other  hand,  throwing  them  across  the  second 
pair  of  rails  as  he  sprang.  He  fell  at  full  length  in 
the  carriage  way.  He  lay  quite  still  for  a  moment, 
and  the  horses  of  the  empty  van  stuck  out  their 
fore-feet  and  stopped  with  a  plunge  close  beside 
him.  The  people  paused  on  the  pavement,  and 
one  or  two  came  forward  to  help  him.  There  is 


28  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

no  policeman  at  this  crossing  as  a  rule,  as  there 
is  one  a  block  higher,  at  the  main  corner.  Ralston 
was  not  hurt,  however,  though  he  had  narrowly 
escaped  losing  his  foot,  for  the  wheel  of  one  of  the 
vehicles  had  torn  the  heel  from  his  shoe.  He  was 
on  his  legs  in  a  few  moments,  holding  the  terrified 
boy  by  the  collar,  and  lecturing  him  roughly  upon 
the  folly  of  doing  risky  things  with  a  perambulator. 
Meanwhile  the  horse-cars  and  wagons  which  had 
blocked  the  crossing  having  moved  off  in  opposite 
directions,  Bright  and  Frank  Miner  ran  across. 
Bright  was  very  pale  as  he  passed  his  arm  through 
Ralston's  and  drew  him  away.  Miner  looked  at 
him  with  silent  admiration,  having  all  his  life 
longed  to  be  the  hero  of  some  such  accident. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  do  such  things,  Jack," 
said  Bright,  in  his  calm  voice.  "Are  you  hurt?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Ralston,  who  seemed  to 
have  enjoyed  the  excitement.  "The  thing  almost 
took  off  my  foot,  though.  I  can't  walk.  Come 
over  to  the  Imperial  again.  I'll  get  brushed  down, 
and  take  a  cab.  Come  along  —  I  can't  stand  this 
crowd.  There'll  be  a  reporter  in  a  minute." 

Without  further  words  the  three  recrossed  the 
street  to  the  hotel. 

"  I  don't  suppose  the  most  rigid  doctor  would 
object  to  my  having  something  to  drink  after  that 
tumble,"  observed  Ralston,  as  they  passed  through 
the  crowded  hall. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  29 

"  Every  man  is  the  best  judge  of  what  he  wants," 
answered  Bright. 

Few  people  noticed,  or  appeared  to  notice,  Rals- 
ton's  dilapidated  condition,  his  smashed  hat,  his 
dusty  clothes  and  his  heelless  shoe.  He  found  a 
hall-boy  who  brushed  him,  and  little  Frank  Miner 
did  his  best  to  restore  the  hat  to  an  appearance  of 
respectability. 

"  All  right,  Frank,"  said  Kalston.  "  Don't  bother 
—  I'm  going  home  in  a  cab,  you  know." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  bar,  swallowed  half  a  tum 
bler  of  whiskey  neat,  and  then  got  into  a  carriage. 

"See  you  this  evening,"  he  said  briefly,  as  he 
nodded  to  Bright  and  Miner,  and  shut  the  cab  door 
after  him. 

The  other  two  watched  the  carriage  a  moment, 
as  it  drove  away,  and  then  looked  at  one  another. 
Miner  had  a  trick  of  moving  his  right  ear  when  he 
was  puzzled.  It  is  rather  an  unusual  peculiarity, 
and  his  friends  knew  what  it  meant.  As  Bright 
looked  at  him  the  ear  began  to  move  slowly,  back 
wards  and  forwards,  with  a  slight  upward  motion. 
Bright  smiled. 

"You  needn't  wag  it  so  far,  Frank,"  he  said. 
"  He's  going  home.  It  will  be  all  right  now." 

"  I  suppose  so  —  or  I  hope  so,  at  least.  I  won 
der  if  Mrs.  Ralston  is  in." 

"Why?" 

"The  trouble  with  you  intelligent  men  is  that 


30  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

you    have   no   sense,"   answered   the    little    man. 
"  He's  had  another  drink  —  four  fingers  it  was,  too 

—  and  he's  been  badly  shaken  up,  and  he  had  the 
beginning  of   a   'jag'  on  before,  and   he's  going 
home  in  a  rolling  cab,  which  makes  it  worse.     If 
he  meets  his  mother,  there'll  be  a  row.     That's  all. 
Even  when  I  was  a  boy  it  wasn't  good  form  to  be 
drunk  before  dinner,  and  nobody  drinks  now  —  at 
least,  not  as  they  used  to.     Well  —  it's  none  of  my 
business." 

"  It's  everybody's  business,"  said  Bright.  "  But 
a  harder  man  to  handle  I  don't  know.  He'll  either 
come  to  grief  or  glory,  or  both  together,  one  of 
these  days.  It's  not  the  quantity  he  takes  —  it's 
the  confounded  irregularity  of  him.  I'm  going  to 
the  club  —  are  you  coining  ?  " 

"I  may  as  well  correct  my  proofs  there  as  any 
where  else.  Pocket's  full  of  them."  Miner  tapped 
his  round  little  chest  with  an  air  of  some  impor 
tance. 

"  Proofs,  eh  ?     Something  new  ?  " 

"I've  worn  them  out,  my  boy.     They're  inca 
pable   of  returning  me  with  thanks  any  more  — 
until  next  time.     I've  worn  them  out,  heel  and  toe, 

—  right  out." 

"  Is  it  a  book,  Frank  ?  " 

"Not  yet.  But  it's  going  to  be.  This  is  the 
first  —  a  series  of  essays,  you  know  —  this  is  the 
wedge,  and  I've  got  it  in,  and  I'm  going  to  drive 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  31 

it  for  all  I'm  worth,  and  when  there  are  six  or 
seven  they'll  make  a  book,  together  with  some 
other  things  —  something  in  the  same  style  — 
which  have  appeared  before." 

"I'm  very  glad,  old  man.  I  congratulate  you. 
Go  in  and  win." 

"  It's  an  awful  life,  though,"  said  Frank  Miner, 
growing  suddenly  grave. 

Bright  glanced  at  the  neat,  rotund  little  figure, 
at  the  pink  cheeks  and  bright  eyes,  and  he  smiled 
quietly. 

"  It's  not  wearing  you  to  the  bone  yet,"  he  ob 
served. 

«  oh  —  that's  no  sign  !  Look  at  Napoleon.  He 
had  rather  my  figure,  I  believe.  What's  the  good 
of  getting  thin  about  things,  anyhow  ?  It's  only 
unhappy  people  who  get  thin.  You  work  hard 
enough,  Ham,  in  your  humdrum  way  —  oh,  I  don't 
envy  your  lot !  —  and  you're  laying  it  on,  Ham, 
you're  laying  it  on  steadily,  year  after  year.  You'll 
be  a  fat  man,  Ham  —  ever  so  much  fatter  than  I 
am,  because  there's  twice  as  much  of  you,  to  begin 
with.  Besides,  you've  got  a  big  chest  and  that 
makes  a  man  look  stout.  But  then,  you  don't  care, 
do  you  ?  You're  perfectly  happy,  so  you  get  fat. 
So  would  Apollo,  if  he  were  a  successful  banker, 
and  gave  up  bothering  about  goddesses  and  things. 
As  for  me,  I  about  keep  my  weight.  Given  up 
bread,  though — last  summer.  Bad  thing,  bread." 


32  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

So  Miner  chattered  on  as  he  walked  by  his 
friend's  side,  towards  the  club.  There  was  no 
great  talent  in  him,  though  he  had  drifted  into 
literature,  and  of  industry  he  had  not  so  much  as 
he  made  people  believe.  But  he  possessed  the 
treasure  of  cheerfulness,  and  dispensed  it  freely 
in  his  conversation,  whereas  in  his  writings  he 
strove  at  the  production  of  gruesome  and  melan 
choly  tales,  stories  of  suffering  and  horror,  the 
analysis  of  pain  and  the  portraiture  of  death  in 
many  forms.  The  contradiction  between  the  dis 
position  of  literary  men  and  their  works  is  often 
a  curious  study. 

Mrs.  Ralston,  was  at  home  that  afternoon,  or 
rather,  to  be  accurate  in  the  social  sense,  she  was 
in,  and  had  given  orders  to  the  general  effect  that 
only  her  particular  friends  were  to  be  admitted. 
This,  again,  is  a  statement  susceptible  of  misap 
prehension,  as  she  had  not  really  any  particular 
friends  in  the  world,  but  only  acquaintances  in 
divers  degrees  of  intimacy,  who  called  themselves 
her  friends  and  sometimes  called  one  another  her 
enemies.  But  of  such  matters  she  took  little 
heed,  and  was  at  no  pains  to  set  people  right 
with  regard  to  her  private  opinion  of  them.  She 
did  many  kind  things  within  society's  limits  and 
without,  but  she  was  wise  enough  to  expect  nothing 
in  return,  being  well  aware  that  real  gratitude  is 
a  mysterious  cryptogam  like  the  truffle,  and  indeed 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  33 

closely  resembling  the  latter  in  its  rarity,  its  spon 
taneous  growth,  its  unprepossessing  appearance, 
and  in  the  fact  that  it  is  more  often  found  and 
enjoyed  by  the  lower  animals  than  by  man. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  elucidate  here  the  some 
what  intricate  points  of  the  Lauderdales'  genealogy 
and  connections,  seeing  that  both  have  a  direct 
bearing  upon  the  life  of  Katharine  Lauderdale, 
of  John  Ralston,  and  of  many  others  who  will 
appear  in  the  course  of  this  episodic  history. 

In  old  times  the  primeval  Alexander  Lauderdale, 
a  younger  son  of  an  honourable  Scotch  family, 
brought  his  wife,  with  a  few  goods  and  no  par 
ticular  chattels,  to  New  York,  and  they  had  two 
sons,  Alexander  and  Robert,  and  died  and  were 
buried.  Of  these  two  sons  the  elder,  Alexander, 
did  very  well  in  the  world,  married  a  girl  of 
Dutch  family,  Anna  Van  Blaricorn,  and  had  three 
sons,  and  he  and  his  wife  died  and  were  buried 
•beside  the  primeval  Alexander. 

Of  these  three  sons  the  eldest  was  Alexander 
Lauderdale,  the  philanthropist,  of  whom  mention 
has  been  made,  who  was  alive  at  the  time  this 
story  begins,  who  married  a  young  girl  of  Puritan 
lineage  and  some  fortune.  She  died  when  their 
only  son,  Alexander  Lauderdale  Junior,  was  twenty- 
two  years  of  age.  The  latter  married  Emma 
Camperdown,  of  the  Kentucky  Catholic  family, 
and  had  two  daughters,  the  elder,  Charlotte,  mar- 


34  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

ried  at  the  present  time  to  Benjamin  Slayback 
of  Nevada,  member  of  Congress,  the  younger, 
Katharine  Lauderdale,  being  John  Ralston's  dark 
cousin. 

So  much  for  the  first  of  the  three  sons.  The 
second  was  Robert  Lauderdale,  the  famous  million 
aire,  the  uncle  Robert  spoken  of  by  Ralston  and 
the  others,  who  never  married,  and  was  at  the 
time  of  this  tale  about  seventy-five  years  of  age. 
He  originally  made  a  great  sum  by  a  fortunate 
investment  in  a  piece  of  land  which  lies  in  the 
heart  of  the  present  city  of  Chicago,  and  having 
begun  with  real  estate  he  stuck  to  it  like  the  wise 
man  he  was,  and  its  value  doubled  and  decupled 
and  centupled,  and  no  one  knew  how  rich  he  was. 
He  was  the  second  son  of  the  elder  son  of  the 
primeval  Alexander. 

The  third  son  of  that  elder  son  was  Ralph 
Lauderdale,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Chan- 
cellorsville  in  the  Civil  War.  He  married  a  Miss 
Charlotte  Mainwaring,  whose  father  had  been  an 
Englishman  settled  somewhere  in  the  South. 
Katharine,  the  widow  of  the  late  Admiral  Ralston, 
was  the  only  child  of  their  marriage,  and  her  only 
child  was  John  Ralston,  second  cousin  to  Katharine 
Lauderdale  and  Mrs.  Slayback. 

But  the  primeval  Alexander  had  a  second  son 
Robert,  who  had  only  one  daughter,  Margaret, 
married  to  Rufus  Thompson.  And  Rufus  Thomp- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  35 

son's  sister  married  Livingston  Miner  of  New 
York,  and  was  the  mother  of  Frank  Miner  and 
of  three  unmarried  daughters.  That  is  the  Miner 
connection. 

And  on  the  Lauderdale  side  Rufus  Thompson 
had  one  daughter  by  his  wife,  Margaret  Lauder 
dale;  and  that  daughter  married  Richard  Bright 
of  Cincinnati,  who  died,  leaving  two  children, 
Hamilton  Bright  and  his  sister  Hester,  the  wife  of 
Walter  Crowdie,  the  eminent  painter  of  New  York. 
This  is  the  relationship  of  the  Brights  to  the  Lau- 
derdales.  Bright,  John  Ralston  and  Katharine 
Lauderdale  were  all  descended  from  the  same 
great-great-grandfather  —  the  primeval  Alexander. 
And  as  there  is  nothing  duller  to  the  ordinary 
mind  than  genealogy,  except  the  laborious  process 
of  tracing  it,  little  more  shall  be  said  about  it 
hereafter,  and  the  ingenious  reader  may  refer  to 
these  pages  when  he  is  in  doubt. 

It  has  been  shown,  however,  that  all  these  mod 
ern  individuals  with  whom  we  have  to  do  come 
from  a  common  stock,  except  little  Frank  Miner, 
who  could  only  boast  of  a  connection  by  marriage. 
For  it  was  a  good  stock,  and  the  families  of  all 
the  women  who  had  married  into  it  were  proud 
of  it,  and  some  of  them  were  glad  to  speak  of  it 
when  they  had  a  chance.  None  of  the  Lauderdales 
had  ever  come  to  any  great  distinction,  it  is  true, 
except  Robert,  by  his  fabulous  wealth.  But  none 


36  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

of  them  had  ever  done  anything  dishonourable 
either,  nor  even  approaching  it.  There  had  not 
even  been  a  divorce  in  the  family.  Some  of  the 
men  had  fought  in  the  war,  and  one  had  been 
killed,  and,  through  Robert,  the  name  was  a 
power  in  the  country.  It  was  said  that  there  had 
never  been  any  wild  blood  in  the  family  either, 
until  Ralph  married  Miss  Mainwaring,  and  that 
John  Ralston  got  all  his  faults  from  his  grand 
mother.  But  that  may  or  may  not  be  true,  seeing 
that  no  one  knows  much  of  the  early  youth  of  the 
primeval  Alexander  before  he  came  to  this  country. 

It  is  probably  easier  for  a  man  to  describe  a  man 
than  a  woman.  The  converse  may  possibly  be 
true  also.  Men  see  men,  on  the  whole,  very  much 
as  they  are,  each  man  being  to  each  other  an  assem 
blage  of  facts  which  can  be  catalogued  and  referred 
to.  But  most  men  receive  from  woman  an  indefinite 
and  perhaps  undefinable  impression,  besides,  and 
sometimes  altogether  at  variance  with  what  is 
merely  visible.  It  is  very  hard  to  convey  any  idea 
of  that  impression  to  a  third  person,  even  in  the 
actual  presence  of  the  woman  described;  it  is 
harder  still  when  the  only  means  are  the  limited 
black  and  white  of  printed  English. 

Katharine  Lauderdale,  at  least,  had  a  fair  share 
of  beauty  of  a  certain  typical  kind,  a  general  con 
ception  of  which  belongs  to  everybody,  but  her  aunt 
Katharine  had  not  even  that.  No  one  ever  called 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  37 

Katharine  Ralston  beautiful,  and  yet  no  one  had 
ever  classed  her  among  pretty  girls  when  she  had 
been  young.  Between  the  two,  between  prettiness 
and  beauty,  there  is  a  debatable  country  of  brown- 
skinned,  bright-eyed,  swift-like  women  of  aquiline 
feature,  and  sometimes  of  almost  man-like  energy, 
who  succeed  in  the  world,  and  are  often  worshipped 
for  three  things  —  their  endurance,  their  smile  and 
their  voice.  They  are  women  who  by  laying  no 
claim  to  the  immunities  of  womanhood  acquire  a 
direct  right  to  consideration  for  their  own  sakes. 
They  also  may  often  possess  that  mysterious  gift 
known  as  charm,  which  is  incomparably  more 
valuable  than  all  the  classic  beauty  and  perfection 
of  colouring  which  nature  can  accumulate  in  one 
individual.  Beauty  fades ;  wit  wears  out ;  but 
charm  is  not  evanescent. 

Katharine  Ralston  had  it,  and  sometimes  won 
dered  what  it  was,  and  even  tried  to  understand 
herself  by  determining  clearly  what  it  was  not. 
But  for  the  most  part  she  thought  nothing  about 
it,  which  is  probably  the  best  rule  for  preserving  it, 
if  it  needs  any  sort  of  preservation. 

Outwardly,  her  son  strongly  resembled  her.  He 
had  from  her  his  dark  complexion,  his  lean  face 
and  his  brown  eyes,  as  well  as  a  certain  grace  of 
figure  and  a  free  carriage  of  the  head  which  belong 
to  the  pride  of  station  —  a  little  exaggerated  — 
which  both  mother  and  son  possessed  in  a  high 


38  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

degree.  Katharine  Ralston  did  not  talk  of  her 
family,  but  she  believed  in  it,  as  something  in 
which  it  was  good  to  believe  from  the  bottom  of 
her  heart,  and  she  had  brought  up  John  to  feel 
that  he  came  from  a  stock  of  gentlemen  and  gentle 
women  who  might  be  bad,  but  could  not  be  mean, 
nor  anything  but  gentle  in  the  vague,  heraldic 
sense  of  that  good  word. 

She  was  a  sensible  woman  and  saw  her  son's 
faults.  They  were  not  small,  by  any  means,  nor 
insignificant  by  their  nature,  nor  convenient  faults 
for  a  young  gentleman  about  town,  who  had  the 
reputation  of  having  tried  several  occupations  and 
of  having  failed  with  quite  equal  brilliancy  in  all. 
But  they  were  not  faults  that  estranged  him  from 
her,  though  she  suffered  much  for  his  sake  in  a 
certain  way.  She  would  rather  have  had  him 
a  drunkard,  a  gambler,  almost  a  murderer,  than 
have  seen  him  turn  out  a  hypocrite.  She  would 
far  rather  have  seen  him  killed  before  her  than 
have  known  that  he  had  ever  lied  to  save  himself, 
or  done  any  of  the  mean  little  sins,  for  which  there 
may  be  repentance  here  and  forgiveness  hereafter, 
but  from  the  pollution  of  which  honour  knows  no 
purification. 

Religion  she  had  none  whatever,  and  frankly 
owned  the  fact  if  questioned  directly.  But  she  made 
no  profession  of  atheism  and  gave  no  grounds  for 
her  unbelief.  She  merely  said  that  she  could  not 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  39 

believe  in  the  existence  of  the  soul,  an  admission 
which  at  once  settled  all  other  kindred  points,  so  far 
as  she  was  concerned.  But  she  regretted  her  own 
position.  In  her  childhood,  her  ideas  had  been 
unsettled  by  the  constant  discussions  which  took 
place  between  her  parents.  Her  father,  like  all 
the  Lauderdales,  had  been  a  Presbyterian.  Her 
mother  had  been  an  Episcopalian,  and,  moreover, 
a  woman  alternately  devout  and  doubting.  Katha 
rine  shared  neither  the  prejudices  nor  the  convic 
tions  of  either.  Then  she  had  married  Admiral 
lialston,  a  man,  like  many  officers  of  the  Navy,  of 
considerable  scientific  acquirements,  and  full  to 
overflowing  of  the  scientific  arguments  against 
religion,  which  were  even  more  popular  in  his  day 
than  they  are  now.  What  little  hold  the  elder 
Katharine  had  still  possessed  upon  an  undefined 
future  state  was  finally  destroyed  by  her  sailor 
husband's  rough,  sledge-hammer  arguments.  In 
the  place  of  religion  she  set  up  a  sort  of  code  of 
honour  to  which  she  rigidly  adhered,  and  in  the 
observance  of  which  she  brought  up  her  only  son. 
It  is  worth  remarking  that  until  he  finally  left 
college  she  encouraged  him  to  be  religious,  if  he 
would,  and  regularly  took  him  to  church  so  long  as 
he  was  a  boy.  She  even  persuaded  his  father  not 
to  talk  atheism  before  him ;  and  the  admiral,  who 
was  as  conservative  as  only  republicans  can  be,  was 
quite  willing  to  let  the  young  fellow  choose  for 


40  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

himself  what  he  should  believe  or  reject  when  he 
should  come  to  years  of  discretion.  Up  to  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  Jack  had  been  a  remarkably 
sober  and  thoughtful  young  fellow.  He  began  to 
change  soon  after  his  father  died. 

Ralston  let  himself  in  with  his  key  when  he  got 
home  and  went  upstairs,  supposing  that  his  mother 
was  out,  as  she  usually  was  at  that  hour.  She 
heard  his  footstep,  however,  as  he  passed  the  door 
of  her  own  sitting-room,  on  the  first  landing,  and 
having  no  idea  that  anything  was  wrong,  she 
called  to  him. 

"  Is  that  you,  Jack  ?  " 

Ralston  stopped  and  in  the  dusk  of  the  staircase 
realized  for  the  first  time  that  he  was  not  sober. 
He  made  an  effort  when  he  spoke,  answering 
through  the  closed  door. 

"  It's  all  right,  mother ;  I'll  be  down  in  a  few 
minutes." 

Something  unusual  in  the  tone  of  his  voice 
must  have  struck  Mrs.  Ralston.  He  had  made  but 
two  steps  forward  when  she  opened  the  door, 
throwing  the  light  full  upon  him. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Jack  ?  "  she  asked,  quietly. 

Then  she  saw  his  face,  the  deep  lines,  the 
drawn  expression,  the  shadows  under  the  eyes  and 
the  unnatural  dull  light  in  the  eyes  themselves. 
And  in  the  same  glance  she  saw  that  his  hat  was 
battered  and  that  his  clothes  were  dusty  and 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  41 

stained.  She  knew  well  enough  that  he  drank 
more  than  was  good  for  him,  but  she  had  never 
before  seen  him  in  such  a  state.  The  broad  day 
light,  too,  and  the  disorder  of  his  clothes  made  him 
look  much  more  intoxicated  than  he  really  was. 
Katharine  Ralston  stood  still  in  silence  for  a 
moment,  and  looked  at  her  son.  Her  face  grew  a 
little  pale  just  before  she  spoke  again. 

"  Are  you  sober  enough  to  take  care  of  your 
self  ? "  she  asked  rather  harshly,  for  there  was 
a  dryness  in  her  throat. 

John  Ralston  was  no  weakling,  and  was,  more 
over,  thoroughly  accustomed  to  controlling  his 
nerves,  as  many  men  are  who  drink  habitually  — 
until  the  nerves  themselves  give  way.  He  drew 
himself  up  and  felt  that  he  was  perfectly  steady 
before  he  answered  in  measured  tones. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  should  see  me  just  now,  mother. 
I  had  a  little  accident,  and  I  took  some  whiskey 
afterwards  to  steady  me.  It  has  gone  to  my  head. 
I'm  very  sorry." 

That  was  more  than  enough  for  his  mother. 
She  came  swiftly  forward,  and  gently  took  him 
by  the  arm  to  lead  him  into  her  room.  But  Rals- 
ton's  sense  of  honour  was  not  quite  satisfied. 

"It's  partly  my  fault,  mother.  I  had  been 
taking  other  things  before,  but  I  was  all  right 
until  the  accident  happened." 

Mrs.  Ralston  smiled  almost  imperceptibly.     She 


42  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

was  glad  that  he  should  be  so  honest,  even  when 
he  was  so  far  gone.  She  led  him  through  the 
door  into  her  own  room,  and  made  him  sit  down 
in  a  comfortable  chair  near  the  window. 

"Never  mind,  Jack,"  she  said,  "I'm  just  like 
a  man  about  understanding  things.  I  know  you 
won't  do  it  again." 

But  Ralston  knew  his  own  weakness,  and  made 
no  rash  promises  then,  though  a  great  impulse 
arose  in  his  misty  understanding,  bidding  him  then 
and  there  make  a  desperately  solemn  vow,  and 
keep  it,  or  do  away  with  himself  if  he  failed. 
He  only  bowed  his  head,  and  sat  down,  as  his 
mother  bid  him.  He  was  ashamed,  and  he  was 
a  man  to  whom  shame  was  particularly  bitter. 

Mrs.  Ralston  got  some  cold  water  in  a  little 
bowl,  and  bathed  his  forehead,  touching  him  as 
tenderly  as  she  would  have  touched  a  sick  child. 
He  submitted  readily  enough,  and  turned  up  his 
brows  gratefully  to  her  hand. 

"Your  head  is  a  little  bruised,"  she  said.  "Were 
you  hurt  anywhere  else  ?  What  happened  ?  Can 
you  tell  me  now,  or  would  you  rather  wait  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing  much,"  answered  Ralston, 
speaking  more  easily  now.  "  There  was  a  boy,  with 
a  perambulator,  getting  between  the  cars  and  carts. 
I  got  him  out  of  the  way,  and  tumbled  down,  because 
there  wasn't  even  time  to  jump.  I  threw  myself 
after  the  boy  —  somehow.  The  wheel  took  otf  the 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  43 

heel  of  my  boot,  but  I  wasn't  hurt.  I'm  all  right 
now.  Thank  you,  mother  dear.  There  never  was 
anybody  like  you  to  understand." 

Mrs.  Ralston  was  very  pale  again,  but  John 
could  not  see  her  face. 

"Don't  risk  such  things,  Jack,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  They  hurt  one  badly." 

Ralston  said  nothing,  but  took  her  hand  and 
kissed  it  gently.  She  pressed  his  silently,  and 
touched  his  matted  hair  with  her  tightly  shut  lips. 
Then  he  got  up. 

"  I'll  go  to  my  room,  now,"  he  said.  "  I'm  much 
better.  It  will  be  all  gone  in  half  an  hour.  I  sup 
pose  it  was  the  shaking,  —  but  I  did  swallow  a  big 
dose  after  my  tumble." 

"  Say  nothing  more  about  it,  my  dear,"  answered 
Mrs.  Ealston,  quietly. 

She  turned  from  him,  ostensibly  to  set  the  bowl 
of  water  upon  a  table.  But  she  knew  that  he 
could  not  be  perfectly  himself  again  in  so  short 
a  time,  and  if  he  was  still  unsteady,  she  did  not 
wish  to  see  it — for  her  own  sake. 

"Thank  you,  mother,"  he  said,  as  he  left  the 
room. 

She  might  have  watched  him,  if  she  had  chosen 
to  do  so,  and  she  would  have  seen  nothing  unusual 
now  —  nothing  but  his  dusty  clothes  and  the  slight 
limp  in  his  gait,  caused  by  the  loss  of  one  low 
heel.  He  was  young,  and  his  nerves  were  good, 


44  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  he  had  a  very  strong  incentive  in  the  shame 
he  still  felt.  Moreover,  under  ordinary  circum 
stances,  even  the  quantity  he  had  drunk  would 
not  have  produced  any  visible  bodily  effect  on 
him,  however  it  might  have  affected  his  naturally 
uncertain  temper.  It  was  quite  true  that  the  fall 
and  the  excitement  of  the  accident  had  shaken  him. 

He  reached  his  own  room,  shut  the  door,  and 
then  sat  down  to  look  at  himself  in  the  glass,  as 
men  under  the  influence  of  drink  very  often  do, 
for  some  mysterious  reason.  Possibly  the  drunken 
man  has  a  vague  idea  that  he  can  get  control  over 
himself  by  staring  at  his  own  image,  and  into  the 
reflection  of  his  own  eyes.  John  Ralston  never 
stayed  before  the  mirror  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary,  except  when  he  had  taken  too  much. 

But  to-day  he  was  conscious  that,  in  spite  of 
appearances,  he  was  rapidly  becoming  bodily  sober. 
If  it  had  all  happened  at  night,  he  would  have 
wound  up  at  a  club,  and  would  probably  have 
come  home  in  the  small  hours,  in  order  to  be 
sure  of  not  finding  his  mother  downstairs,  and  he 
would  have  been  in  a  very  dubious  condition.  But 
the  broad  light,  the  cold  water,  his  profound  shame 
and  his  natural  nerve  had  now  combined  to  restore 
him,  outwardly  at  least,  and  so  far  as  he  was  con 
scious,  to  his  normal  state. 

He  bathed,  looked  at  the  clock,  and  saw  that  it 
was  not  yet  five,  and  then  dressed  himself  as 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  45 

though  to  go  out.  But,  before  doing  so,  he  sat 
down  and  smoked  a  cigarette.  He  felt  nervously 
active  now,  refreshed  and  able  to  face  anything. 
Before  he  had  half  finished  smoking  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  show  himself  to  his  mother  and 
then  to  go  for  a  walk  before  dinner. 

He  glanced  once  more  at  the  mirror  to  assure 
himself  that  he  was  not  mistaken,  and  was  sur 
prised  at  the  quick  change  in  his  appearance.  His 
colour  had  come  back,  his  eyes  were  quiet,  the 
deeper  lines  were  gone  from  his  face — lines  which 
should  never  have  been  there  at  five  and  twenty. 
He  turned  away,  well  pleased,  and  went  briskly 
down  the  stairs,  though  it  was  already  growing 
dark,  and  the  steps  were  high.  After  all,  he 
thought,  it  was  probably  the  loss  of  the  heel  from 
his  shoe  that  had  made  him  walk  unsteadily. 
Such  an  absurd  accident  had  never  happened  to 
him  before.  He  knocked  at  the  door  of  his 
mother's  sitting-room,  and  she  bade  him  come  in. 

"  You  see,  mother,  it  was  nothing,  after  all,"  he 
said,  going  up  to  her  as  she  sat  before  the  fire. 

She  looked  up,  saw  his  face,  and  then  smiled 
happily. 

"  I'm  so  glad,  Jack,"  she  answered,  springing  to 
her  feet  and  kissing  him.  "  You  have  no  idea  how 
you  looked  when  I  saw  you  there  on  the  landing. 
I  thought  you  were  really  —  quite  —  but  quite, 
quite,  you  know,  iny  dear  boy." 


46  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

She  shook  her  head,  still  smiling,  and  holding 
both  his  hands. 

"  I'm  going  for  a  bit  of  a  walk  before  dinner," 
he  said.  "Then  well  have  a  quiet  evening  to 
gether,  and  I  shall  go  to  bed  early." 

"That's  right.  The  walk  will  do  you  good. 
You're  quite  wonderful,  Jack  !  "  She  laughed  out 
right  —  he  looked  so  perfectly  sober.  u  Don't  drink 
any  more  whiskey  to-day ! "  she  added,  not  half  in 
earnest. 

"  Never  fear  !  "  And  he  laughed  too,  without 
any  suspicion  of  himself. 

He  walked  rapidly  down  the  street  in  the  warm 
glow  of  the  evening,  heedless  of  the  direction  he 
took.  By  fate  or  by  habit,  he  found  himself  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  later  opposite  to  Alexander  Lau- 
derdale's  house.  He  paused,  reflected  a  moment, 
then  ascended  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

"  Is  Miss  Katharine  at  home  ?  "  he  enquired  of 
the  girl  who  opened  the  door. 

"  Yes,  sir.     She  came  in  a  moment  ago." 

John  Ralston  entered  the  house  without  further 
question. 


CHAPTER   III. 

E ALSTON  entered  the  library,  as  the  room  was 
called,  although  it  did  not  contain  many  books. 
The  house  was  an  old-fashioned  one  in  Clinton 
Place,  which  nowadays  is  West  Eighth  Street, 
between  Fifth  Avenue  and  Sixth  Avenue,  a  region 
respectable  and  full  of  boarding  houses.  In  ac 
cordance  with  the  customs  of  the  times  in  which  it 
had  been  built,  the  ground  floor  contained  three 
good-sized  rooms,  known  in  all  such  houses  as  the 
library,  the  drawing-room  or  f  parlour/  and  the 
dining-room,  which  was  at  the  back  and  had  win 
dows  upon  the  yard.  The  drawing-room,  being 
under  the  middle  of  the  house,  had  no  windows 
at  all,  and  was  therefore  really  available  only  in 
the  evening.  The  library,  where  Ralston  waited, 
was  on  the  front. 

There  was  an  air  of  gravity  about  the  place  which 
he  had  never  liked.  It  was  not  exactly  gloomy,  for 
it  was  on  too  small  a  scale,  nor  vulgarly  respectable, 
for  such  objects  as  were  for  ornament  were  in  good 
taste,  as  a  few  engravings  from  serious  pictures  by 
great  masters,  a  good  portrait  of  the  primeval 
Alexander  Lauderdale,  a  small  bronze  reproduction 
47 


48  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

of  the  Faun  in  the  Naples  museum,  two  or  three 
fairly  good  water-colours,  which  were  apparently 
views  of  Scotch  scenery,  and  a  big  blue  china  vase 
with  nothing  in  it.  With  a  little  better  arrange 
ment,  these  things  might  have  gone  far.  But  the 
engravings  and  pictures  were  hung  with  respect  to 
symmetry  rather  than  with  regard  to  the  light. 
The  stiff  furniture  was  stiffly  placed  against  the 
wall.  The  books  in  the  low  shelves  opposite  to 
the  fireplace  were  chiefly  bound  in  black,  in 
various  stages  of  shabbiness,  and  Ralston  knew 
that  they  were  largely  works  on  religion,  and 
reports  of  institutions  more  or  less  educational  or 
philanthropic.  There  was  a  writing  table  near  the 
window,  upon  which  a  few  papers  and  writing 
materials  were  arranged  with  a  neatness  not  busi 
ness-like,  but  systematically  neat  for  its  own  sake 
—  the  note  paper  was  piled  with  precision  upon 
the  middle  of  the  blotter,  upon  which  lay  also  the 
penwiper,  and  a  perfectly  new  stick  of  bright  red 
sealing-wax,  so  that  everything  would  have  to  be 
moved  before  any  one  could  possibly  write  a  letter. 
The  carpet  was  old,  and  had  evidently  been  taken 
to  pieces  and  the  breadths  refitted  with  a  view  to 
concealing  the  threadbare  parts,  but  with  effect 
disastrous  to  the  continuity  of  the  large  green  and 
black  pattern.  The  house  was  heated  by  a  furnace 
and  there  was  no  fire  in  the  grim  fireplace.  That 
was  for  economy,  as  Ralston  knew. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  49 

For  the  Lauderdales  were  evidently  poor,  though 
the  old  philanthropist  who  lived  upstairs  was 
the  only  living  brother  of  the  arch-millionaire. 
But  Alexander  Senior  spent  his  life  in  getting 
as  much  as  he  could  from  Eobert  in  order  to 
put  it  into  the  education  of  idiots,  and  would 
cheerfully  have  fed  his  son  and  daughter-in-law 
and  Katharine  on  bread  and  water  for  the  sake 
of  educating  one  idiot  more.  The  same  is  a  part 
of  philanthropy  when  it  becomes  professional. 
Alexander  Junior  had  a  magnificent  reputation  for 
probity,  and  was  concerned  in  business,  being  con 
nected  with  the  administration  of  a  great  Trust 
Company,  which  brought  him  a  fixed  salary.  Be 
yond  that  he  assured  his  family  that  he  had  never 
made  a  dollar  in  his  life,  and  that  only  his  health, 
which  indeed  was  of  iron,  stood  between  them  and 
starvation,  an  argument  which  he  used  with  force 
to  crush  any  frivolous  tendency  developed  in  his 
wife  and  daughter.  He  had  dark  hair  just  turning 
to  a  steely  grey,  steel-grey  eyes,  and  a  long,  clean 
shaven,  steel-grey  upper  lip,  but  his  eyebrows  were 
still  black.  His  teeth  were  magnificent,  but  he  had 
so  little  vanity  that  he  hardly  ever  smiled,  except 
as  a  matter  of  politeness.  He  had  looked  pleased, 
however,  when  Benjamin  Slayback  of  Nevada  had 
led  his  daughter  Charlotte  from  the  altar.  Slayback 
had  loved  the  girl  for  her  beauty  and  had  taken  her 
penniless ;  and  uncle  Eobert  had  given  her  a  few 


50  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

thousands  for  her  bridal  outfit.  Alexander  Junior 
had  therefore  been  at  no  expense  for  her  marriage, 
except  for  the  cake  and  decorations,  but  it  was 
long  before  he  ceased  to  speak  of  his  expenditure 
for  those  items.  As  for  Alexander  Senior,  he 
really  had  no  money  except  for  idiots  ;  he  wore 
his  clothes  threadbare,  had  his  overcoats  turned, 
and  secretly  bought  his  shoes  of  a  little  Italian 
shoemaker  in  South  Fifth  Avenue.  He  was  said 
to  be  over  eighty  years  of  age,  but  was  in  reality 
not  much  older  than  his  rich  brother  Robert. 

It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  surroundings  more 
uncongenial  to  Mrs.  Alexander  Junior,  as  Katha 
rine  Lauderdale's  mother  was  generally  called.  An 
ardent  Roman  Catholic,  she  was  bound  to  a  family 
of  rigid  Presbyterians;  a  woman  of  keen  artistic 
sense,  she  was  wedded  to  a  man  whose  only 
measure  of  things  was  their  money-value ;  a  nature 
originally  susceptible  to  the  charm  of  all  outward 
surroundings,  and  inclining  to  a  taste  for  modest 
luxury  rather  than  to  excessive  economy,  she  had 
married  one  whom  she  in  her  heart  believed  to  be 
miserly.  She  admitted,  indeed,  that  she  would 
probably  have  married  her  husband  again,  under 
like  circumstances.  The  child  of  a  ruined  Southern 
family,  loyal  during  the  Civil  War,  she  had  been 
brought  early  to  New  York,  and  almost  as  soon 
as  she  was  seen  in  society,  Alexander  Lauderdale 
had  fallen  in  love  with  her.  He  had  seemed  to 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  51 

her,  as  indeed  he  was  still,  a  splendid  specimen  of 
manhood ;  he  was  not  rich,  but  was  industrious  and 
was  the  nephew  of  the  great  Robert  Lauderdale. 
Even  her  fastidious  people  could  not  say  that  he 
was  not,  from  a  social  point  of  view,  of  the  best  in 
New  York.  She  had  loved  him  in  a  girlish  fashion, 
and  they  had  been  married  at  once.  It  was  all 
very  natural,  and  the  union  might  assuredly  have 
turned  out  worse  than  it  did. 

Seeing  that  according  to  her  husband's  continual 
assurances  they  were  growing  poorer  and  poorer, 
Mrs.  Alexander  had  long  ago  begun  to  turn  her 
natural  gifts  to  account,  with  a  view  to  making  a 
little  money  wherewith  to  provide  herself  and  her 
daughters  with  a  few  harmless  luxuries.  She  had 
tried  writing  and  had  failed,  but  she  had  been  more 
successful  with  painting,  and  had  produced  some 
excellent  miniatures.  Alexander  Junior  had  at 
first  protested,  fearing  the  artistic  tribe  as  a  whole, 
and  dreading  lest  his  wife  should  develop  a  taste 
for  things  Bohemian,  such  as  palms  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  and  going  to  the  opera  in  the  gallery 
rather  than  not  going  at  all.  He  did  not  think  of 
anything  else  Bohemian  within  the  range  of  possi 
bilities,  except,  perhaps,  dirty  fingers,  which  dis 
gusted  him,  and  unpunctuality,  which  drove  him 
mad.  But  when  he  saw  that  his  wife  earned 
money,  and  ceased  to  ask  him  for  small  sums  to 
be  spent  on  gloves  and  perishable  hats,  he  rejoiced 


52  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

greatly,  and  began  to  suggest  that  she  should  invest 
her  savings,  placing  them  in  his  hands  at  five  per 
cent  interest.  But  poor  Mrs.  Alexander  never  was 
so  successful  as  to  have  any  savings  to  invest.  Her 
husband  accepted  gratefully  a  miniature  of  the  two 
girls  which  she  once  painted  as  a  surprise  and  gave 
him  at  Christmas,  and  he  secretly  priced  it  during 
the  following  week  at  a  dealer's,  and  was  pleased 
when  the  man  offered  him  fifty  dollars  for  it, — 
which  illustrates  Alexander's  thoughtful  disposi 
tion. 

This  was  the  household  in  which  Katharine 
Lauderdale  had  grown  up,  and  these  were  the  peo 
ple  whose  characters,  temperaments,  and  looks  had 
mingled  in  her  own.  So  far  as  the  latter  point 
was  concerned,  she  had  nothing  to  complain  of. 
It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  children  of  two 
such  handsome  people  should  be  anything  but 
beautiful,  and  Charlotte  and  Katharine  had  plenty 
of  beauty  of  different  types,  fair  and  dark  respec 
tively.  Charlotte  was  most  like  her  mother  in  ap 
pearance,  but  more  closely  resembled  her  father  in 
nature.  Katharine  had  inherited  her  father's  face 
and  strength  of  constitution  with  many  of  her 
mother's  gifts,  more  or  less  modified  and,  perhaps, 
diminished  in  value.  At  the  time  when  this  his 
tory  begins,  she  was  nineteen  years  old,  and  had 
been  what  is  called  'out'  in  society  for  more  than 
a  year.  She  therefore,  according  to  the  customs 


KATHARINE  LAU DEED  ALE.  53 

of  the  country  and  age,  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
receiving  alone  the  young  gentlemen  of  her  set 
who  either  admired  her  or  found  pleasure  in  her 
conversation.  Of  the  former  there  were  many; 
of  the  latter,  a  few. 

Ralston  stood  with  his  back  to  the  empty  fire 
place,  staring  at  the  dark  mahogany  door  which 
led  to  the  regions  of  the  staircase.  He  had  only 
waited  five  minutes,  but  he  was  in  an  impulsive 
frame  of  mind,  and  it  had  seemed  a  very  long 
time.  At  last  the  door  opened.  Katharine  entered 
the  room,  smiled  and  nodded  to  him,  and  then 
turned  and  shut  the  door  carefully  before  she  came 
forward. 

She  was  a  very  beautiful  girl.  No  one  could 
have  denied  that,  in  the  main.  Yet  there  was 
something  puzzling  in  the  face,  primarily  due, 
perhaps,  to  the  mixture  of  races.  The  features 
were  harmonious,  strong  and,  on  the  whole,  noble 
and  classic  in  outline,  the  mouth  especially  being 
of  a  very  pure  type,  and  the  curved  lips  of  that 
creamy,  salmon  rose-colour  occasionally  seen  in 
dark  persons  —  neither  red,  nor  pink  nor  pale. 
The  very  broadly  marked  dark  eyebrows  gave  the 
face  strength,  and  the  deep  grey  eyes,  almost 
black  at  times,  had  an  oddly  fixed  and  earnest 
look.  In  them  there  was  no  softness  on  ordinary 
occasions.  They  expressed  rather  a  determination 
to  penetrate  what  they  saw,  not  altogether  unmixed 


54  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

with  wonder  at  the  discoveries  they  made.  The 
whole  face  was  boldly  outlined,  but  by  no  means 
thin,  and  the  skin  was  perceptibly  freckled,  which 
is  unusual  with  dark  people,  and  is  the  consequence 
of  a  red-haired  strain  in  the  inheritance.  The 
primeval  Alexander  had  been  a  red-haired  man, 
and  Robert  the  Rich  had  resembled  him  before  he 
had  grown  grey.  Charlotte  Slayback  had  chris 
tened  the  latter  by  that  name.  She  had  a  sharp 
tongue,  and  called  the  primeval  one  Alexander  the 
Great,  her  grandfather  Alexander  the  Idiot,  and 
her  father  Alexander  the  Safe.  Katharine  had  her 
own  opinions  about  most  of  the  family,  but  she 
did  not  express  them  so  plainly. 

She  was  still  smiling  as  she  met  Ralston  in  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

"You  look  happy,  dear,"  he  said,  kissing  her 
forehead  softly. 

"I'm  not,"  she  answered.  "I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  There's  a  difference.  Sit  down." 

"Has  there  been  any  trouble?"  he  asked,  seat 
ing  himself  in  a  little  low  chair  beside  the  corner 
of  the  sofa  she  had  chosen. 

"  Not  exactly  trouble  —  no.  It's  the  old  story 
—  only  it's  getting  so  old  that  I'm  beginning  to 
hate  it.  You  understand." 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  wish  there  were  anything  to 
be  done  —  which  you  would  consent  to  do."  He 
added  the  last  words  as  though  by  an  afterthought. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  55 

"I'll  consent  to  almost  anything,  Jack." 

The  smile  had  vanished  from  her  face  and  she 
spoke  in  a  despairing  tone,  fixing  her  big  eyes  on 
his,  and  bending  her  heavy  eyebrows  as  though  in 
bodily  pain.  He  took  her  hand  —  firm,  well- 
grown  and  white  —  in  his  and  laid  it  against  his 
lean  cheek. 

"Dear!"  he  said. 

His  voice  trembled  a  little,  which  was  unusual. 
He  felt  unaccountably  emotional  and  was  more  in 
love  than  usual.  The  tone  in  which  he  spoke  the 
single  word  touched  Katharine,  and  she  leaned  for 
ward,  laying  her  other  hand  upon  his  other  one. 

"  You  do  love  me,  Jack, "  she  said. 

"God  knows  I  do,"  he  answered,  very  earnestly, 
and  again  his  voice  quavered. 

It  was  very  still  in  the  room,  and  the  dusk  was 
creeping  toward  the  high,  narrow  windows,  filling 
the  corners,  and  blackening  the  shadowy  places, 
and  then  rising  from  the  floor,  almost  like  a 
tide,  till  only  the  faces  of  the  two  young  people 
seemed  to  be  above  it,  still  palely  visible  in  the 
twilight. 

Suddenly  Katharine  rose  to  her  feet,  with  a 
quick-drawn  breath  which  was  not  quite  a  sigh. 

"Pull  down  the  shades,  Jack,"  she  said,  as  she 
struck  a  match  and  lit  the  gas  at  one  of  the  stiff 
brackets  which  flanked  the  mantelpiece. 

lialston  obeyed  in  silence.     When  he  came  back 


56  KATHARINE   LAUDERDALE. 

she  had  resumed  her  seat  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa, 
and  he  sat  down  beside  her  instead  of  taking  the 
chair  again. 

He  did  not  speak  at  once,  though  it  seemed  to 
him  that  his  heart  had  never  been  so  full  before. 
As  he  looked  at  the  lovely  girl  he  felt  a  thrill  of 
passionate  delight  that  ran  through  him  and  almost 
hurt  him,  and  left  him  at  last  with  an  odd  sensa 
tion  in  the  throat  and  a  painful  sinking  at  the 
heart.  He  did  not  reflect  upon  its  meaning,  and  he 
certainly  did  not  connect  it  with  the  reaction  fol 
lowing  what  he  had  made  his  nerves  bear  during 
the  day.  He  was  sincerely  conscious  that  he  had 
never  been  so  deeply,  truly  in  love  with  Katharine 
before.  She  watched  him,  understanding  what  he 
felt,  smiling  into  his  eyes,  but  silent,  too.  They 
had  known  each  other  since  they  had  been  children, 
and  had  loved  one  another  since  Katharine  had 
been  sixteen  years  old,  —  more  than  three  whole 
years,  which  is  a  long  time  for  first  love  to  endure, 
unless  it  means  to  be  last  as  well  as  the  first. 

"You  said  you  would  consent  to  almost  any 
thing,"  said  Ralston,  after  a  long  pause.  "It 
would  be  very  simple  for  us  to  be  married,  in  spite 
of  everybody.  Shall  we?  Shall  we,  dear?"  he 
asked,  repeating  the  question. 

"I  would  almost  do  that  — "  She  turned  her 
face  away  and  stared  at  the  empty  fireplace. 

"Say,  quite!     After  all,  what  can  they  all  do? 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  57 

What  is  there  so  dreadful  to  face,  if  we  do  get 
married?  We  must,  one  of  these  days.  Life's 
not  life  without  you  —  and  death  wouldn't  be 
death  with  you,  darling,"  he  added. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest,  Jack,  —  or  are  you  making 
love  to  me?" 

She  asked  the  question  suddenly,  catching  his 
hands  and  holding  them  firmly  together,  and  look 
ing  at  him  with  eyes  that  were  almost  fierce.  The 
passion  rose  in  his  own,  with  a  dark  light,  and  his 
face  grew  pale.  Then  he  laughed  nervously. 

"I'm  only  laughing,  of  course  —  you  see  I  am. 
Why  must  you  take  a  fellow  in  earnest?" 

But  there  was  nothing  in  his  words  that  jarred 
upon  her.  He  could  not  laugh  away  the  truth 
from  his  look,  for  truth  it  was  at  that  moment, 
whatever  its  source, 

"I  know  —  I  understand,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice.  "We  can't  live  apart,  you  and  I." 

"It's  like  tearing  out  fingers  by  the  joints  every 
time  I  leave  you,"  Kalston  answered.  "It's  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead  to  see  you  —  it's  the  glory 
of  heaven  to  kiss  you." 

The  words  came  to  his  lips  ready,  rough  and 
strong,  and  when  he  had  spoken  them,  hers  sealed 
every  one  of  them  upon  his  own,  believing  every 
one  of  them,  and  trusting  in  the  strength  of  him. 
Then  she  pushed  him  away  and  leaned  back  in 
her  corner,  with  half-closed  eyes. 


58  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  ever  ask  if  you're  in  ear 
nest,  dear,"  she  said.  "I  know  you  are.  It  would 
kill  me  to  think  that  you're  playing.  Women  are 
always  said  to  be  foolish  —  perhaps  it's  in  that 
way  —  and  I'm  no  better  than  the  rest  of  them. 
But  you  don't  spoil  me  in  that  way.  You  don't 
often  say  it  as  you  did  just  now. " 

"I  never  loved  you  as  I  do  now,"  said  Ralston, 
simply. 

"I  feel  it." 

"But  I  wish  —  well,  impossibilities." 

"What?     Tell  me,  Jack.     I  shall  understand." 

"  Oh  —  nothing.  Only  I  wish  I  could  find  some 
way  of  proving  it  to  you.  But  people  always  say 
that  sort  of  thing.  We  don't  live  in  the  middle 
ages." 

"I  believe  we  do,"  answered  Katharine,  thought 
fully.  "I  believe  people  will  say  that  we  did, 
hundreds  of  years  hence,  when  they  write  about  us. 
Besides  —  Jack  —  not  that  I  want  any  proof,  be 
cause  I  believe  you  —  but  there  is  something  you 
could  do,  if  you  would.  I  know  you  wouldn't 
like  to  do  it." 

It  flashed  across  Ralston 's  mind  that  she  was 
about  to  ask  him  to  make  a  great  sacrifice  for  her, 
to  give  up  wine  for  her  sake,  having  heard,  per 
haps  —  even  probably  —  of  some  of  his  excesses. 
He  was  nervous,  overwrought  and  full  of  wild 
impulses  that  day,  but  he  knew  what  such  a  prom- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  59 

ise  would  mean  in  his  simple  code.  He  was  not 
in  any  true  sense  degraded,  beyond  the  weakening 
of  his  will.  In  an  instant  so  brief  that  Katharine 
did  not  notice  his  hesitation  he  reviewed  his  whole 
life,  so  familiar  to  him  in  its  worse  light  that  it 
rose  instantaneously  before  him  as  a  complete  pic 
ture.  He  felt  positively  sure  of  what  she  was 
about  to  ask  him,  and  as  he  looked  into  her  great 
grey  eyes  he  believed  that  he  could  keep  the  pledge 
he  was  about  to  give  her,  that  it  would  save  him 
from  destruction,  and  that  he  should  thus  owe  his 
happiness  to  her  more  wholly  than  ever. 

"I'll  do  it,"  he  answered,  and  the  fingers  of 
his  right  hand  slowly  closed  till  his  fist  was 
clenched. 

"Thank  you,  dear  one,"  answered  Katharine, 
softly.  "  But  you  mustn't  promise  until  you  know 
what  it  is." 

"I  know  what  I've  said." 

"But  I  won't  let  you  promise.  You  wouldn't 
forgive  me  — you'd  think  that  I  had  caught  you  — 
that  it  was  a  trap  —  all  sorts  of  things." 

Ealston  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  He  felt 
quite  sure  of  her  and  of  himself.  And  it  would 
have  been  better  for  her  and  for  him,  if  she  had 
asked  what  he  expected. 

"Jack,"  she  said,  lowering  her  voice  almost  to  a 
whisper,   "I  want  you  to   marry  me  privately  — 
quite    in    secret  —  that's    what    I    mean.     Not    a 


60  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

human  being  must  know,  but  you  and  I  and  the 
clergyman." 

John  Ralston  looked  into  her  face  in  thunder 
struck  astonishment.  It  is  doubtful  whether  any 
thing  natural  or  supernatural  could  have  brought 
such  a  look  into  his  eyes.  Katharine  smiled,  for 
the  idea  had  long  been  familiar  to  her. 

"  Confess  that  you  were  not  prepared  for  that !  " 
she  said.  "But  you've  confessed  it  already." 

"  Well  —  hardly  for  that  —  no. " 

The  look  of  surprise  in  his  face  gradually  changed 
into  one  of  wondering  curiosity,  and  his  brows  knit 
themselves  into  a  sort  of  puzzled  frown,  as  though 
he  were  trying  to  solve  a  difficult  problem. 

"You  see  why  I  didn't  want  you  to  promise 
anything  rashly,"  said  Katharine.  "You  couldn't 
possibly  foresee  what  I  was  going  to  ask  any  more 
than  you  can  understand  why  I  ask  it.  Could  you?  " 

"  No.     Of  course  not.     Who  could?  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  ask  any  one  else  to,  you  may  be 
sure.  In  the  first  place,  do  you  think  it  wrong?  " 

"Wrong?  That  depends  —  there  are  so  many 
things  —  "  he  hesitated. 

"  Say  what  you  think,  Jack.  I  want  to  know 
just  what  you  think." 

"That's  the  trouble.  I  hardly  know  myself. 
Of  course  there's  nothing  absolutely  wrong  in  a 
secret  marriage.  No  marriage  is  wrong,  exactly, 
if  the  people  are  free." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  61 

" That's  the  main  thing  I  wanted  to  know,"  said 
Katharine,  quietly. 

"Yes — but  there  are  other  things.  Men  don't 
think  it  exactly  honourable  to  persuade  a  girl  to 
be  married  secretly,  against  the  wishes  of  her  peo 
ple.  A  great  many  men  would,  but  don't.  It's 
somehow  not  quite  fair  to  the  girl.  Running  away 
is  all  fair  and  square,  if  people  are  ready  to  face 
the  consequences.  Perhaps  it  is  that  there  are 
consequences  to  face  —  that  makes  it  a  sort  of 
pitched  battle,  and  the  parents  generally  give  in 
at  the  end,  because  there's  no  other  way  out  of  it. 
But  a  secret  marriage  —  well,  it  doesn't  exactly 
have  consequences,  in  the  ordinary  way.  The  girl 
goes  on  living  at  home  as  though  she  were  not 
married,  deceiving  everybody  all  round  —  and  so 
must  the  man.  In  fact  it's  a  kind  of  lie,  and  I 
don't  like  it." 

Ealston  paused  after  this  long  speech,  and  was 
evidently  deep  in  thought. 

"  All  you  say  is  true  enough  —  in  a  sense,"  Kath 
arine  answered.  "But  when  it's  the  only  way  to 
get  married  at  all,  the  case  is  different.  Don't  you 
think  so  yourself?  Wouldn't  you  rather  be  secretly 
married  than  go  on  like  this  — as  this  may  go  on, 
for  ten,  fifteen,  twenty  years  —  all  our  lives?" 

"  Of  course  I  would.     But  I  don't  see  why  — ' 

"  I  do,  and  I  want  to  make  you  see.  Listen  to 
my  little  speech,  please.  First,  we  are  both  of 


62  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE 

age  —  I  am  so  far  as  being  married  is  concerned, 
and  we  have  an  absolute  right  to  do  as  we  please 
about  it  —  to  be  married  in  the  teeth  of  the  lions, 
if  that's  not  a  false  metaphor  —  or  something  — 
you  know." 

"In  the  jaws  of  hell,  for  that  matter,"  said 
Ralston,  fervently. 

"  Thank  you  for  saying  it.  I'm  only  a  girl  and 
mustn't  use  strong  language.  Very  well,  we  have 
a  perfect  right  to  do  as  we  please.  That's  a  great 
point.  Then  we  have  only  to  choose,  and  it  be 
comes  a  matter  of  judgment." 

"You  talk  like  print,"  laughed  Ralston. 

"So  much  the  better.  We  have  made  up  our 
minds  that  we  can't  live  without  each  other,  so 
we  must  be  married  somehow.  You  don't  think 
it's  not  —  what  shall  I  say?  —  not  quite  like  a  girl 
for  me  to  talk  in  this  way,  do  you?  We  have 
talked  of  it  so  often,  and  we  decided  so  long  ago !  " 

"What  nonsense!     Be  as  plain  as  possible." 

"  Because  if  you  do  —  then  I  shall  have  to  write 
it  all  to  you,  and  I  can't  write  well." 

Ralston  smiled. 

"Go  on,"  he  said.  "I'm  waiting  for  the 
reasons." 

"They  could  simply  starve  us,  Jack.  We've 
neither  of  us  a  dollar  in  the  world." 

"Not  a  cent,"  said  Ralston,  very  emphatically. 
"If  we  had,  we  shouldn't  be  where  we  are." 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  63 

"And  your  mother  can't  give  you  any  money, 
and  my  father  won't  give  me  any." 

"And  I'm  a  failure,"  Ralston  observed,  with 
sudden  grimness  and  hatred  of  himself. 

"Hush!  You'll  be  a  success  some  day.  That's 
not  the  question.  The  point  is,  if  we  tried  to  get 
married  openly,  there  would  be  horrible  scenes 
first,  and  then  war,  and  starvation  afterwards. 
It's  not  a  pretty  prospect,  but  it's  true." 

"I  suppose  it  is." 

"It's  so  deadly  true  that  it  puts  an  open  mar 
riage  out  of  the  question  altogether.  If  there  were 
nothing  else  to  be  done,  it  would  be  different.  I'd 
rather  starve  than  give  you  up.  But  there  is  a 
way  out  of  it.  We  can  be  married  secretly.  In 
that  way  we  shall  avoid  the  scenes  and  the  war." 

"And  then  wait  for  something  to  happen?  We 
should  be  just  where  we  are  now.  To  all  intents 
and  purposes  you  would  be  Spinster  Lauderdale 
and  I  should  be  Bachelor  Ealston.  I  don't  see 
that  it  would  be  the  slightest  improvement  on  the 
present  situation  —  honestly,  I  don't.  I'm  not 
romantic,  as  people  are  in  books.  I  don't  think  it 
would  be  sweeter  than  life  to  call  you  wife,  and 
when  we're  married  I  shall  call  you  Katharine 
just  the  same.  I  don't  distrust  you.  You  know 
I  don't.  I'm  not  really  afraid  that  you'll  go  and 
marry  Ham  Bright,  or  Frank  Miner,  nor  even 
the  most  desirable  young  man  in  New  York,  who 


64  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

has  probably  proposed  to  you  already.  I'm  not 
vain,  but  I  know  you  love  me.  I  should  be  a 
brute  if  I  doubted  it  —  " 

"Yes  —  I  think  you  would,  dear,"  said  Katha 
rine,  with  great  directness. 

"So  that  since  I'm  to  wait  for  you  till  'some 
thing  happens '  -  —  never  mind  to  whom,  and  long 
life  to  all  of  them!  —  I'd  rather  wait  as  we  are 
than  go  through  it  with  a  pack  of  lies  to  carry." 

"  I  like  you,  Jack  —  besides  loving  you.  It's  quite 
another  feeling,  you  know.  You're  such  a  man!  " 

"I  wish  I  were  half  what  you  think  I  am." 

"I'll  think  what  I  please.  It's  none  of  your 
dear  business.  But  you  haven't  heard  half  I  have 
to  say  yet.  I'll  suppose  that  we're  married  — 
secretly.  Very  well.  That  same  day,  or  the  next 
day,  and  as  soon  as  possible,  I  shall  go  to  uncle 
Kobert  and  tell  him  the  whole  truth." 

"To  uncle  Robert!"  exclaimed  Ralston,  who 
had  not  yet  come  to  the  end  of  the  surprises  in 
store  for  him.  "And  ask  him  for  some  money,  I 
suppose?  That  won't  do,  Katharine.  Indeed  it 
won't.  I  should  be  letting  you  go  begging  for  me. 
That's  the  plain  English  of  it.  No,  no!  That 
can't  be  done." 

"You'll  find  it  hard  to  prevent  me  from  begging 
for  you,  or  working  for  you  either,  if  you  ever 
need  it,"  said  Katharine.  There  was  a  certain 
grand  simplicity  about  the  plain  statement. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  65 

"You're  too  good  for  me,"  said  Ralston,  in  alow 
voice,  and  for  the  third  time  there  was  a  quiver  in 
his  tone.  Moreover,  he  felt  an  unaccustomed 
moisture  in  his  eyes  which  gave  him  pleasure, 
though  he  was  ashamed  of  it. 

"No,  I'm  not  —  not  a  bit  too  good  for  you.  But 
I  like  to  hear  —  I  don't  know  why  it  is,  but  your 
voice  touches  me  to-day.  It  seems  changed." 

Ralston  was  truthful  and  honourable.  If  he 
had  himself  understood  the  causes  of  his  increased 
emotion,  he  would  have  hanged  himself  rather  than 
have  let  Katharine  say  what  she  did,  without  tell 
ing  her  what  had  happened.  He  drank,  and  he 
knew  it,  and  of  late  he  had  been  drinking  hard, 
but  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  ever  spoken 
to  Katharine  Lauderdale  when  he  had  been  drink 
ing,  and  he  was  deceived  by  his  own  apparent 
soberness  beyond  the  possibility  of  believing  that 
he  was  on  the  verge  of  being  slightly  hysterical. 
Let  them  who  doubt  the  possibility  of  such  a  case 
question  those  who  have  watched  a  thousand  cases. 

There  was  a  little  pause  after  Katharine's  last 
words.  Then  she  went  on,  —  explaining  her  pro 
ject. 

"  Uncle  Robert  always  says  that  nobody  under 
stands  him  as  I  do.  I  shall  try  and  make  him  un 
derstand  me,  for  a  change.  I  shall  tell  him  just 
what  has  happened,  and  I  shall  tell  him  that  he 
must  find  work  for  you  to  do,  since  you're  per- 


66  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

fectly  capable  of  working  if  you  only  have  a  fair 
chance.  You  never  had  one.  I  don't  call  it  a 
chance  to  put  an  active  man  like  you  into  a  gloomy 
law  office  to  copy  fusty  documents.  And  I  don't 
call  it  giving  you  a  chance  to  glue  you  to  a  desk  in 
Beman  Brothers'  bank.  You're  not  made  for  that 
sort  of  work.  Of  course  you  were  disgusted  and  re 
fused  to  go  on.  I  should  have  done  just  the  same." 

"Oh,  you  would  —  I'm  quite  sure!"  answered 
Ralston,  with  conviction. 

"Naturally.  Not  but  that  I'm  just  as  capable 
of  working  as  you  are,  though.  To  go  back  to 
uncle  Robert.  It's  just  impossible,  with  all  his 
different  interests,  all  over  the  country,  and  with 
his  influence  —  and  you  know  what  that  is  —  that 
he  should  not  have  something  for  you  to  do.  Be 
sides,  he'll  understand  us.  He's  a  great  big  man, 
on  a  big  scale,  a  head  and  shoulders  mentally 
bigger  than  all  the  rest  of  the  family." 

"That's  true,"  assented  Ralston. 

"And  he  knows  that  you  don't  want  to  take 
money  without  giving  an  equivalent  for  it." 

"He's  known  that  all  along.  I  don't  see  why 
he  should  put  himself  out  any  more  now  —  " 

"Because  I'll  make  him,"  said  Katharine,  firmly. 
"  I  can  do  that  for  you,  and  if  you  torture  your 
code  of  honour  into  fits  you  can't  make  it  tell  you 
that  a  wife  should  not  do  that  sort  of  thing  for  her 
husband.  Can  you?" 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  67 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Ralston,  smiling. 
"I've  tried  it  myself  often  enough  with  the  old 
gentleman.  He  says  I've  had  two  chances  and 
have  thrown  them  up,  and  that,  after  all,  my  mother 
and  I  have  quite  enough  to  live  on  comfortably, 
so  he  supposes  that  I  don't  care  for  work.  I  told 
him  that  enough  was  not  nearly  so  good  as  a  feast. 
He  laughed  and  said  he  knew  that,  but  that  people 
couldn't  stand  feasting  unless  they  worked  hard. 
The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  offered  to  make 
Beman  try  me  again.  But  I  couldn't  stand  that." 

"Of  course  not." 

"I  can't  stand  anything  where  I  produce  no 
effect,  and  am  not  to  earn  my  living  for  ever  so 
long.  I  wasn't  to  have  any  salary  at  Beman's 
for  a  year,  you  know,  because  I  knew  nothing 
about  the  work.  And  it  was  the  same  at  the  law 
yer's  office  —  only  much  longer  to  wait.  I  could 
work  at  anything  I  understood,  of  course.  But  I 
suppose  I  do  know  precious  little  that's  of  any 
use.  It  can't  be  helped,  now." 

"Yes,  it  can.  But  you  see  my  plan.  Uncle 
Eobert  will  be  so  taken  off  his  feet  that  he'll  find 
you  something.  Then  the  whole  thing  will  be 
settled.  It  will  probably  be  something  in  the 
West.  Then  we'll  declare  ourselves.  There'll 
be  one  stupendous  crash,  and  we  shall  disappear 
from  the  scene,  leaving  the  family  to  like  it  or 
not,  as  they  please.  In  the  end  they  will  like 


68  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

it.  There  would  be  no  lies  to  act  —  at  least,  not 
after  two  or  three  days.  It  wouldn't  take  longer 
than  that  to  arrange  things." 

"It  all  depends  on  uncle  Robert,  it  seems  to 
me,"  said  llalston,  doubtfully.  "  A  runaway  match 
would  come  to  about  the  same  thing  in  the  end. 
I'll  do  that,  if  you  like." 

"  I  won't.  It  must  be  done  in  my  way,  or  not  at 
all.  If  we  ran  away  we  should  have  to  come  back 
to  see  uncle  Robert,  and  we  should  find  him  furi 
ous.  He'd  tell  us  to  go  back  to  our  homes,  sepa 
rately,  till  we  had  enough  to  live  on  —  or  to  go  and 
live  with  your  mother.  I  won't  do  that  either. 
She's  not  able  to  support  us  both." 

"No  —  frankly,  she's  not." 

"And  uncle  Robert  would  be  angry,  wouldn't 
he?  He  has  a  fearful  temper,  you  know." 

"Yes  —  he  probably  would  be  raging." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  I  don't  like  it,  Katharine  dear  —  I  don't  like 
it." 

"  Then  you  can  never  marry  me  at  all,  Jack.  At 
least,  I'm  afraid  not." 

"Never?"  Ralston's  expression  changed  sud 
denly. 

"There's  another  reason,  Jack  dear.  I  didn't 
want  to  speak  of  it  —  now. " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

RALSTON  said  nothing  at  first.  Then  he  looked 
at  Katharine  as  though  expecting  that  she  should 
speak  again  and  explain  her  meaning,  in  spite  of 
her  having  said  that  she  had  not  meant  to  do  so. 

"What  is  this  other  reason?"  he  asked,  after  a 
long  pause. 

"  It  would  take  so  long  to  tell  you  all  about  it," 
she  answered,  thoughtfully.  "  And  even  if  I  did, 
I  am  not  sure  that  you  would  understand.  It 
belongs  —  well  —  to  quite  another  set  of  ideas." 

"  It  must  be  something  rather  serious  if  it  means 
marriage  now,  or  marriage  never." 

"  It  is  serious.  And  the  worst  of  it  is  that  you 
will  laugh  at  it  —  and  I  am  sure  you  will  say  that 
I  am  not  honest  to  myself.  And  yet  I  am.  You 
see  it  is  connected  with  things  about  which  you 
and  I  don't  think  alike." 

"Religion?"  suggested  Ralston,  in  a  tone  of 
enquiry. 

Katharine  bowed  her  head  slowly,  sighed  just 
audibly  and  looked  away  from  him  as  she  leaned 
back.  Nothing  could  have  expressed  more  clearly 


70  KATHARINE  LAUDEKDALE. 

her  conviction  that  the  subject  was  one  upon  which 
they  could  never  agree. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  sigh  about  it,"  said 
Ralston,  in  a  tone  which  expressed  relief  rather 
than  perplexity.  "I  often  wonder  why  people 
generally  look  so  sad  when  they  talk  about  relig 
ion.  Almost  everybody  does." 

"  How  ridiculous  ! "  exclaimed  Katharine,  with  a 
little  laugh.  "Besides,  I  wasn't  sighing,  exactly 
—  I  was  only  wishing  it  were  all  arranged." 

"  Your  religion  ?  " 

"Don't  talk  like  that.  I'm  in  earnest.  Don't 
laugh  at  me,  Jack  dear  —  please  !  " 

"I'm  not  laughing.  Can't  you  tell  me  how 
religion  bears  on  the  matter  in  hand  ?  That's  all 
I  need  to  know.  I  don't  laugh  at  religion  —  at 
yours  or  any  one  else's.  I  believe  I  have  a  little 
inclination  to  it  myself." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  But  —  well  —  I  don't  think  you 
have  enough  to  save  a  fly  —  not  the  smallest  little 
fly,  Jack.  Never  mind  —  you're  just  as  nice,  dear. 
I  don't  like  men  who  preach." 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  But  what  has  all  this  to  do 
with  our  getting  married  ?  " 

"  Listen.  It's  perfectly  clear  to  me,  and  you  can 
understand  if  you  will.  I  have  almost  made  up 
my  mind  to  become  a  Catholic  — 

"You?"  Ralston  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 
"  You  —  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  " 


KATIIAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  71 

«  Yes  —  Holy  Roman  Catholic  and  Apostolic.  Is 
that  clear,  Jack  ?  " 

"Perfectly.     I'm  sorry." 

"  Now  don't  be  a  Puritan,  Jack  —  " 

"  I'm  not  a  Puritan.  I  haven't  a  drop  of  Puritan 
blood.  You  have,  Katharine,  for  your  grandmother 
was  one  of  the  real  old  sort.  I've  heard  my  father 
say  so." 

"You're  just  as  much  a  Lauderdale  as  I  am," 
retorted  Katharine.  "  And  if  Scotch  Presbyterians 
are  not  Puritans,  what  is?  But  that  isn't  what 
I  mean.  It's  the  tendency  to  wish  that  people 
were  nothing  at  all  rather  than  Catholics." 

"It's  not  that.  I'm  not  so  prejudiced.  I  was 
thinking  of  the  row  —  that's  all.  You  don't  mean 
to  keep  that  a  secret,  too?  It  wouldn't  be  like 
you." 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  Katharine,  proudly. 

"  Well  —  you've  not  told  me  what  the  connection 
is  between  this  and  our  marriage.  You  don't 
suppose  that  it  will  really  make  any  difference  to 
me,  do  you?  You  can't.  And  you're  quite  mis 
taken  about  my  Puritanism.  I  would  much  rather 
that  my  wife  should  be  a  Eoman  Catholic  than 
nothing  at  all.  I'm  broad  enough  for  that,  any 
how.  Of  course  it's  a  serious  matter,  because 
people  sometimes  do  that  kind  of  thing  and  then 
find  out  that  they  have  made  a  mistake  —  when 
it's  too  late.  And  there's  something  ridiculous  and 


72  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

undignified  about  giving  it  up  again  when  it's  once 
done.  Eeligion  seems  to  be  a  good  deal  like  poli 
tics.  You  may  change  once  —  people  won't  admire 
you  —  I  mean  people  on  your  old  side  —  but  they 
will  tolerate  you.  But  if  you  change  twice  —  " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  change  twice.  I've  not  quite, 
quite  made  up  my  mind  to  change  once,  yet.  But 
if  I  do,  it  will  make  things  —  I  mean,  our  marriage 
—  almost  impossible." 

"Why?" 

"The  Catholics  do  everything  they  can  to  pre 
vent  mixed  marriages,  Jack,  —  especially  in  our 
country.  You  would  have  to  make  all  sorts  of 
promises  which  you  wouldn't  like,  and  which  I 
shouldn't  want  you  to  make  —  " 

Ealston  laughed,  suddenly  comprehending  her 
point  of  view. 

"  I  see  ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"Of  course  you  see.  It's  as  plain  as  day.  I 
want  to  make  sure  of  you  —  dear,"  —  she  laid  her 
hand  softly  on  his,  —  "and  I  also  want  to  be  sure  of 
being  perfectly  free  to  change  my  mind  about  my 
religion,  if  I  wish  to.  It's  a  stroke  of  diplo 
macy." 

"I  don't  know  much  about  diplomatic  proceed 
ings,"  laughed  Ealston,  "  but  this  strikes  me  as  — 
well  —  very  intelligent,  to  say  the  least  of  it." 

Katharine's  face  became  very  grave,  and  she 
withdrew  her  hand. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  73 

"You  mean  that  it  does  not  seem  to  you  per 
fectly  honest/'  she  said. 

"  I  didn't  say  that/7  he  answered,  his  expression 
changing  with  hers.  "  Of  course  the  idea  is  that 
if  you  are  married  to  me  before  you  become  a 
Catholic,  your  church  can  have  nothing  to  say  to 
ine  when  you  do." 

"Of  course — yes.  You  couldn't  be  called  upon 
to  make  any  promises.  But  if  I  should  decide,  after 
all,  not  to  take  the  step,  there  would  be  no  harm 
done.  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  have  the  advantage 
of  being  able  to  put  pressure  on  uncle  Robert,  as 
I  explained  to  you  before." 

"  I  didn't  say  I  thought  it  wasn't  honest/'  said 
Kalston.  "  It's  rather  deep,  and  I'm  always  afraid 
that  deep  things  may  not  be  quite  straight.  I 
should  like  to  think  about  it,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  I  want  you  to  decide.     I've  thought  about  it." 

«  Yes  —  but  —  " 

"  Well  ?  Suppose  that,  after  thinking  it  over 
for  ever  so  long,  you  should  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  I  should  not  be  acting  perfectly  honestly  to 
my  conscience  —  that's  the  worst  you  could  dis 
cover,  isn't  it  ?  Even  then  —  and  I  believe  it's  an 
impossible  case  —  it's  my  conscience  and  not  yours. 
If  you  were  trying  to  persuade  me  to  a  secret  mar 
riage  because  you  were  afraid  of  the  consequences, 
it  would  be  different  —  " 

"  Bather ! "  exclaimed  Ealston,  vehemently. 


74  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  But  you're  not.  You  see,  the  main  point  is  on 
my  account,  and  it's  I  who  am  doing  all  the  per 
suading,  for  that  reason.  It  may  be  un  —  un  — 
what  shall  I  call  it  —  not  like  a  girl  at  all.  But  I 
don't  care.  Why  shouldn't  I  tell  you  that  I  love 
you  ?  We've  both  said  it  often  enough,  and  we 
both  mean  it,  and  I  mean  to  be  married  to  you. 
The  religious  question  is  a  matter  of  conviction. 
You  have  no  convictions,  so  you  can't  under 
stand  —  " 

"  I  have  one  or  two  —  little  ones." 

"  Not  enougli  to  understand  what  I  feel  —  that 
if  religion  is  anything,  then  it's  everything  except 
our  love.  No  —  that  wasn't  an  afterthought.  It's 
not  coming  between  you  and  me.  Nothing  can. 
But  it's  everything  else  in  life,  or  else  it's  nothing 
at  all  and  not  worth  speaking  of.  And  if  it  is  — 
if  it  really  is  —  why  then,  for  me,  as  I  look  at  it, 
it  means  the  Catholic  Church.  If  I  talk  as  though 
I  were  not  quite  sure,  it's  because  I  want  to  be 
quite  on  the  safe  side.  And  if  I  want  you  to  do 
this  thing  —  it's  because  I  want  to  be  absolutely 
sure  that  hereafter  no  human  being  shall  come 
between  us.  I  know  all  about  the  difficulties  in 
these  mixed  marriages.  I've  made  lots  of  enquir 
ies.  There's  no  question  of  faith,  or  belief,  or 
anything  of  the  sort  in  their  objections.  It's  sim 
ply  a  matter  of  church  politics,  and  I  daresay  that 
they  are  quite  right  about  it,  from  their  point  of 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  75 

view,  and  that  if  one  is  once  with  them  one  must 
be  with  them  altogether,  in  policy  as  well  as  in 
religion.  But  I'm  not  as  far  as  that  yet.  Perhaps 
I  never  shall  be,  after  all.  I  want  to  make  sure  of 
you  —  oh,  Jack,  don't  you  understand  ?  I  can't 
talk  well,  but  I  know  just  what  I  mean.  Tell 
me  you  understand,  and  that  you'll  do  what  I 
ask!" 

"It's  very  hard!7'  said  Ralston,  bending  his 
head  and  looking  at  the  carpet.  "  I  wish  I  knew 
what  to  do." 

Woman-like,  she  saw  that  she  was  beginning  to 
get  the  advantage. 

"Go  over  it  all,  dear.  In  the  first  place,  it's 
entirely  for  my  sake,  and  not  in  the  least  for  yours. 
So  you  can't  say  there's  anything  selfish  in  it,  if 
you  do  it  for  me,  can  you  ?  You  don't  want  to 
do  it,  you  don't  like  it,  and  if  you  do  it  you'll  be 
making  a  sacrifice  to  please  me." 

"  In  marrying  you ! "  Kalston  laughed  a  little 
and  then  became  very  grave  again. 

"Yes,  in  marrying  me.  It's  a  mere  formality, 
and  nothing  else.  We're  not  going  to  run  away 
afterwards,  nor  meet  in  the  dark  in  G-ramercy 
Park  nor  do  anything  in  the  least  different  from 
what  we've  always  done,  until  I've  got  what  I 
want  from  uncle  Eobert.  Then  we'll  acknowledge 
the  whole  thing,  and  I'll  take  all  the  blame  on 
myself,  if  there  is  any  - 


76  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  interrupted 
Ralston. 

"Unless  you  tell  a  story  that's  not  true,  you 
won't  be  able  to  find  anything  to  blame  yourself 
with,"  answered  Katharine.  "So  it  will  be  all 
over,  and  it  will  save  no  end  of  bother  —  and  ex 
pense.  Which  is  something,  as  neither  of  us,  nor 
our  people,  have  any  money  to  speak  of,  and  a  wed 
ding  costs  ever  so  much.  I  needn't  even  have  a 
trousseau  —  just  a  few  things,  of  course  —  and 
poor  papa  will  be  glad  of  that.  You  needn't  laugh. 
You'll  be  doing  him  a  service,  as  well  as  me.  And 
you  see  how  I  can  put  it  to  uncle  Robert,  don't 
you?  'Uncle  Robert,  we're  married  —  that's  all. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  '  Nothing 
could  be  plainer  than  that,  could  it  ? " 

"  Nothing  !  " 

"  Now  he  will  simply  have  to  do  something. 
Perhaps  he'll  be  angry  at  first,  but  that  won't  last 
long.  He'll  get  over  it  and  laugh  at  my  audacity. 
But  that  isn't  the  main  point.  It's  perfectly  con 
ceivable  that  you  might  work  and  slave  at  some 
thing  you  hate  for  years  and  years,  until  we  could 
get  married  in  the  regular  way.  The  principal 
question  is  the  other  —  my  freedom  afterwards  to 
do  exactly  as  I  please  about  my  religion  without 
any  possibility  of  any  one  interfering  with  our 
marriage." 

"  Katharine !     Do  you  really  mean  to  say  that  if 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  77 

you  were  a  Catholic,  and  if  the  priests  said  that  we 
shouldn't  be  married,  you  would  submit?" 

"  If  I  couldn't,  I  couldn't,"  Katharine  answered. 
"  If  I  were  a  Catholic,  and  a  good  Catholic,  —  I 
wouldn't  be  a  bad  one, — no  marriage  but  a  Catho 
lic  one  would  be  a  marriage  at  all  for  me.  And  if 
they  refused  it,  what  could  I  do  ?  Go  back  ?  That 
would  be  lying  to  myself.  To  marry  you  in  some 
half  regular  way  —  " 

"Hush,  child!  You  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  —  perfectly.  And  you  wouldn't  like 
that.  So  you  see  what  my  position  is.  It's  abso 
lutely  necessary  to  my  future  happiness  that  we 
should  be  quietly  married  some  morning  —  to-mor 
row,  if  you  like,  but  certainly  in  a  day  or  two  — 
and  that  nobody  should  know  anything  about  it, 
until  I've  told  uncle  Eobert." 

"  After  all,"  said  Ealston,  hesitating,  "  it  will  be 
very  much  the  same  thing  as  though  we  were  to 
run  away,  provided  we  face  everybody  at  once." 

"  Very  much  better,  because  there'll  be  no 
scandal  —  and  no  immediate  starvation,  which  is 
something  worth  considering." 

"  It  won't  really  be  a  secret  marriage,  except  for 
the  mere  ceremony,  then.  That  looks  different, 
somehow." 

"  Of  course.  You  don't  suppose  that  I  thought 
of  taking  so  much  trouble  and  doing  such  a  queer 


78  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

thing  just  for  the  sake  of  knowing  all  to  myself 
that  I  was  married,  do  you  ?  Besides,  secrets  are 
always  idiotic  things.  Somebody  always  lets  them 
out  before  one  is  ready.  And  it's  not  as  though 
there  were  any  good  reason  in  the  world  why  we 
should  not  be  married,  except  the  money  question. 
We're  of  age  —  and  suited  to  each  other  —  and 
all  that." 

"  Naturally  ! "     And  Ralston  laughed  again. 

"  Well,  then  —  it  seems  to  me  that  it's  all  per 
fectly  clear.  It  amounts  to  telling  everybody  the 
day  after,  instead  of  the  day  before  the  wedding. 
Do  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  on  protesting,  but  you 
do  make  it  very  clear  that  there's  nothing  under 
hand  about  it,  except  the  mere  ceremony.  And  as 
you  say,  we  have  a  perfect  right  to  be  married  if 
we  please." 

"  And  we  do  please  —  don't  we  ?  " 

"With  all  our  hearts,"  Ralston  answered,  in  a 
dreamy  tone. 

"Then  when  shall  it  be,  Jack?"  Katharine 
leaned  towards  him  and  touched  his  hand  with 
her  fingers  as  though  to  rouse  him  from  the  reverie 
into  which  he  seemed  to  be  falling. 

The  touch  thrilled  him,  and  he  looked  up  sud 
denly  and  met  her  glance.  He  looked  at  her 
steadily  for  a  moment,  and  once  more  he  felt 
that  odd,  pleasurable,  unmanly  moisture  in  his 


"She  rose  suddenly  and  pretended  to  busy  herself  with  the  single 
light."  — Vol.  I.,  p.  79. 


KATHAEINE  LAUDEEDALE.  79 

eyes,  with  a  sweeping  wave  of  emotion  that  rose 
from  his  heart  with  a  rush  as  though  it  would 
burst  his  throat.  He  yielded  to  it  altogether  this 
time,  and  catching  her  in  his  arms  drew  her  pas 
sionately  to  him,  kissing  her  again  and  again,  as 
though  he  had  never  kissed  her  before.  He  did 
not  understand  it  himself,  and  Katharine  was  not 
used  to  it.  But  she  loved  him,  too,  with  all  her 
heart,  as  it  seemed  to  her.  She  had  proved  it  to 
him  and  to  herself  more  completely  within  the  last 
half  hour,  and  she  let  her  own  arms  go  round  him. 
Then  a  deep,  dark  blush  which  she  could  feel,  rose 
slowly  from  her  throat  to  her  cheeks,  and  she  in 
stinctively  disentangled  herself  from  him  and  drew 
gently  back. 

"  Remember  that  it's  for  my  sake  — not  for  yours, 
dear,"  she  said. 

Her  grey  eyes  were  as  deep  as  the  dusk  itself. 
Vaguely  she  guessed  her  power  as  she  gave  him 
one  more  long  look,  and  then  rose  suddenly  and 
pretended  to  busy  herself  with  the  single  light, 
turning  it  up  a  little  and  then  down.  Ralston, 
watched  the  springing  curves  that  outlined  her 
figure  as  she  reached  upward.  He  was  in  many 
ways  a  strangely  refined  man,  in  spite  of  all  his  sins, 
and  of  his  besetting  sin  in  particular,  and  refine 
ment  in  others  appealed  to  him  strongly  when  it 
was  healthy  and  natural.  He  detested  the  diapha 
nous  type  of  semi-consumptive  with  the  angel  face, 


80  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

man  or  woman,  and  declared  that  a  skeleton  de 
served  no  credit  for  looking  refined,  since  it  could 
not  possibly  look  anything  else.  But  he  delighted 
in  delicacy  of  touch  and  grace  of  movement  when  it 
went  with  such  health  and  strength  as  Katharine 
had. 

"  You  are  the  most  divinely  beautiful  thing  on 
earth,"  he  said,  quietly. 

Katharine  laughed,  but  still  turned  her  face  away 
from  him. 

"  Then  marry  me,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  What 
a  speech ! "  she  cried  an  instant  later.  "  Just 
fancy  if  any  one  could  hear  me,  not  knowing  what 
we've  been  talking  about ! " 

"  You  were  just  in  time,  then,"  said  Ralston. 
"  There's  some  one  coming." 

Katharine  turned  quickly,  listened  a  moment,  and 
distinguished  a  footfall  on  the  stairs  outside  the 
door.  She  nodded,  and  came  to  his  side  at  once. 

"  You  will,  Jack,"  she  said  under  her  breath. 
"  Say  that  you  will  —  quick  !  " 

Ralston  hesitated  one  moment.  He  tried  to 
think,  but  her  eyes  were  upon  him  and  he  seemed 
to  be  under  a  spell.  They  were  close  together,  and 
there  was  not  much  light  in  the  room.  He  felt 
that  the  shadow  of  something  unknown  was  around 
them  both  —  that  somewhere  in  the  room  a  sweet 
flower  was  growing,  not  like  other  flowers,  not 
common  nor  scented  with  spring  —  a  plant  full  of 


KATHAEINE  LAUDEEDALE.  81 

softly  twisted  tendrils  and  pale  petals  and  in- 
turned  stamens  —  a  flower  of  moon-leaf  and  fire- 
bloom  and  dusk-thorn  —  drooping  above  their  two 
heads  like  a  blossom-laden  bough  bending  heavily 
over  two  exquisite  statues  —  two  statues  that  did 
not  speak,  whose  faces  did  not  change  as  the  night 
stole  silently  upon  them  —  but  they  were  side  by 
side,  very  near,  and  the  darkness  was  sweet. 

It  was  only  an  instant.     Then  their  lips  met. 

"Yes,"  he  whispered,  and  drew  back  as  the  door 
opened. 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  entered  the  room. 

"  Oh,  are  you  there,  Jack  ?  "  she  asked,  but  with 
out  any  surprise,  as  though  she  were  accustomed  to 
find  him  with  Katharine. 

"Yes,"  answered  Ralston,  quietly.  "I've  been 
here  ever  so  long.  How  do  you  do,  cousin  Emma  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  tired  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lauderdale. 
"  I've  been  working  all  day  long.  I  positively  can't 
see." 

"  You  ought  not  to  work  so  hard,"  said  Ealston. 
"  You'll  wear  your  eyes  out." 

"No,  I'm  strong,  and  so  are  my  eyes.  I  only 
wanted  to  say  that  I  was  tired.  It's  such  a  relief ! " 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  been  a  very  beautiful 
woman,  and  was,  indeed,  only  just  beginning  to 
lose  her  beauty.  She  was  much  taller  than  either 
of  her  daughters,  but  of  a  different  type  of  figure 
from  Katharine,  and  less  evenly  grown,  if  such  an 


82  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

expression  may  be  permitted.  The  hand  was  typi 
cal  of  the  difference.  Mrs.  Lauderdale's  was  ex 
tremely  long  and  thin,  but  well  made  in  the  details, 
though  out  of  proportion  in  the  way  of  length  and 
narrowness  as  a  whole.  Katharine's  hand  was  firm 
and  full,  without  being  what  is  called  a  thick  hand. 
There  was  a  more  perfect  balance  between  flesh  and 
bone  in  the  straight,  strong  fingers.  Mrs.  Lauder- 
dale  had  been  one  of  those  magnificent  fair  beauties 
occasionally  seen  in  Kentucky,  —  a  perfect  head 
with  perfect  but  small  features,  superb  golden 
hair,  straight,  clear  eyes,  a  small  red  mouth,  — 
great  dignity  of  carriage,  too,  with  the  something 
which  has  been  christened  l  dash '  when  she  moved 
quickly,  or  did  anything  with  those  long  hands  of 
hers, — a  marvellous  constitution,  and  the  dazzling 
complexion  of  snow  and  carnations  that  goes  with 
it,  very  different  from  the  softer  '  milk  and  roses ' 
of  the  Latin  poet's  mistress.  Mrs.  Lauderdale  had 
always  been  described  as  dazzling,  and  people  who 
saw  her  for  the  first  time  used  the  word  even  now 
to  convey  the  impression  she  made.  Her  age, 
which  was  known  only  to  some  members  of  the 
family,  and  which  is  not  of  the  slightest  impor 
tance  to  this  history,  showed  itself  chiefly  in  a 
diminution  of  this  dazzling  quality.  The  white 
was  less  white,  the  carnation  was  becoming  a  com 
mon  pink,  the  gold  of  her  hair  was  no  longer  gold 
all  through,  but  distinctly  brown  in  many  places, 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  83 

though  it  would  certainly  never  turn  grey  until 
extreme  old  age.  Her  movements,  too,  were  less 
free,  though  stately  still,  —  the  brutal  word  ( rheu 
matism  '  had  been  whispered  by  the  family  doctor, 
—  and  to  go  back  to  her  face,  there  were  unde 
niably  certain  tiny  lines,  and  many  of  them,  which 
were  not  the  lines  of  beauty. 

It  was  a  brave,  good  face,  on  the  whole,  gifted, 
sometimes  sympathetic,  and  oddly  cold  when  the 
woman's  temper  was  most  impulsive.  For  there 
is  an  expression  of  coldness  which  weakness  puts 
on  in  self-defence.  A  certain  narrowness  of  view, 
diametrically  opposed  to  a  corresponding  narrow 
ness  in  her  husband's  mind,  did  not  show  itself  in 
her  features.  There  is  a  defiant,  supremely  satis 
fied  look  which  shows  that  sort  of  limitation. 
Possibly  such  -narrowness  was  not  natural  with 
Mrs.  Lauderdale,  but  the  result  of  having  been 
systematically  opposed  on  certain  particular  grounds 
throughout  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  of 
married  life.  However  that  may  be,  it  was  by  this 
time  a  part  of  her  nature,  though  not  outwardly 
expressed  in  any 'apparent  way. 

She  had  not  been  very  happy  with  Alexander 
Junior,  and  she  admitted  the  fact.  She  knew  also 
that  she  had  been  a  good  wife  to  him  in  every  fair 
sense  of  the  word.  For  although  she  had  enjoyed 
compensations,  she  had  taken  advantage  of  them 
in  a  strictly  conscientious  way.  Undeniable 


84  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

beauty,  of  the  kind  which  every  one  recognizes 
instantly  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  is  so 
rare  a  gift  that  it  does  indeed  compensate  its 
possessor  for  many  misfortunes,  especially  when 
she  enjoys  amusement  for  its  own  sake,  innocently 
and  without  losing  her  head  or  becoming  spoiled 
and  affected  by  constant  admiration.  Katharine 
Lauderdale  had  not  that  degree  of  beauty,  and 
there  were  numerous  persons  who  did  not  even 
care  for  what  they  called  'her  style.'  Her  sister 
Charlotte  had  something  of  her  mother's  brilliancy, 
indeed,  but  there  was  a  hardness  about  her  face 
and  nature  which  was  apparent  at  first  sight. 
Mrs.  Alexander  had  always  remained  the  beauty 
of  the  family,  and  indeed  the  beauty  of  the  society 
to  which  she  belonged,  even  after  her  daughters 
had  been  grown  up.  She  had  outshone  them,  even 
in  a  world  like  that  of  New  York,  which  does  not 
readily  compare  mothers  and  daughters  in  any 
way,  and  asks  them  out  separately  as  though  they 
did  not  belong  to  each  other. 

She  had  not  been  very  happy,  and  apart  from  any 
purely  imaginary  bliss,  procurable  only  by  some 
miraculous  changes  in  Alexander  Junior's  heart 
and  head,  she  believed  that  the  only  real  thing 
lacking  was  money.  She  had  always  been  poor. 
She  had  never  known  what  seemed  to  her  the 
supreme  delight  of  sitting  in  her  own  carriage. 
She  had  never  tasted  the  pleasure  of  having  five 


KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  85 

hundred  dollars  to  spend  on  her  fancies,  exactly 
as  she  pleased.  The  question  of  dress  had  always 
been  more  or  less  of  a  struggle.  She  had  not 
exactly  extravagant  tastes,  but  she  should  have 
liked  to  feel  once  in  her  life  that  she  was  at 
liberty  to  throw  aside  a  pair  of  perfectly  new 
gloves,  merely  because  when  she  put  them  on  the 
first  time  one  of  the  seams  was  a  little  crooked, 
or  the  lower  part  was  too  loose  for  her  narrow 
hand.  She  had  always  felt  that  when  she  had 
bought  a  thing  she  must  wear  it  out,  as  a  mat 
ter  of  conscience,  even  if  it  did  not  suit  her. 
And  there  was  a  real  little  pain  in  the  thought, 
of  which  she  was  ashamed.  Small  things,  but 
womanly  and  human.  Then,  too,  there  was  the 
constant  chafing  of  her  pardonable  pride  when 
ninety-nine  of  her  acquaintances  all  did  the  same 
thing,  and  she  was  the  hundredth  who  could  not 
afford  it  —  and  the  subscriptions  and  the  charity 
concerts  and  the  theatre  parties.  It  was  mainly 
in  order  to  supply  herself  with  a  little  money  for 
such  objects  as  these  that  she  had  worked  so  hard 
at  her  painting  for  years  —  that  she  might  not  be 
obliged  to  apply  to  her  husband  for  such  sums 
on  every  occasion.  She  had  succeeded  to  some 
extent,  too,  and  her  initials  had  a  certain  reputa 
tion,  even  with  the  dealers.  Many  people  knew 
that  those  same  initials  were  hers,  and  a  few  friends 
were  altogether  in  her  confidence.  Possibly  if  she 


86  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

had  been  less  beautiful,  she  would  have  been  spoken 
of  at  afternoon  teas  as  'poor  Mrs.  Lauderdale,' 
and  people  would  have  been  found  —  for  society 
has  its  kindly  side  —  who  would  have  half-surrep- 
titiously  paid  large  sums  for  bits  of  her  work,  even 
much  more  than  her  miniatures  could  ever  be 
worth.  But  she  did  not  excite  pity.  She  looked 
rich,  as  some  people  do  to  their  cost.  People 
sympathized  with  her  in  the  matter  of  Alexan 
der  Junior's  character,  for  he  was  not  popular. 
But  no  one  thought  of  pitying  her  because  she 
was  poor.  On  the  contrary,  many  persons  envied 
her.  It  must  be  'such  fun/  they  said,  to  be  able 
to  paint  and  really  sell  one's  paintings.  A  dashing 
woman  with  a  lot  of  talent,  who  can  make  a  few 
hundreds  in  half  an  hour  when  she  chooses,  said 
others.  What  did  she  spend  the  money  on  ?  On 
whatever  she  pleased — probably  in  charity,  she 
was  so  good-hearted.  But  those  people  did  not 
see  her  as  Jack  Kalston  saw  her,  worn  out  with 
a  long  day's  work,  her  eyes  aching,  her  naturally 
good  temper  almost  on  edge ;  and  they  did  not 
know  that  Katharine  Lauderdale's  simple  ball 
gowns  were  paid  for  by  the  work  of  her  mother's 
hands.  It  was  just  as  well  that  they  did  not 
know  it.  Society  has  such  queer  fits  sometimes 
—  somebody  might  have  given  Katharine  a  dress. 
But  Ralston  was  in  the  secret  and  knew. 

"One  may  be  as  strong  as  cast-steel,"  he  said. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  87 

"  Even  that  wears  out.  Ask  the  people  who  make 
engines.  You'll  accomplish  a  great  deal  more  if  you 
go  easy  and  give  yourself  rest  from  time  to  time." 

"Like  you,  Jack/'  observed  Mrs.  Lauderdale, 
not  unkindly. 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  failure.  I  admitted  the  fact  long 
ago.  I'm  only  fit  for  a  bad  example,  —  a  sort  of 
moral  scarecrow." 

"  Yes.  I  wonder  why  ?  "  Mrs.  Lauderdale  was 
tired  and  was  thinking  aloud.  "  I  didn't  mean  to 
say  that,  Jack,"  she  added,  frankly,  realizing  what 
she  had  said,  from  the  recollection  of  the  sound  of 
her  own  voice,  as  people  sometimes  do  who  are 
exhausted  or  naturally  absent-minded. 

"  It  wasn't  exactly  complimentary,  mother,"  said 
Katharine,  coldly.  "Besides,  is  it  fair  to  say  that 
a  man  is  a  failure  at  Jack's  age  ?  Patrick  Henry 
was  a  failure  at  twenty-three.  He  was  bankrupt." 

"Patrick  Henry!"  exclaimed  Ralston.  "What 
do  you  know  about  Patrick  Henry  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  been  reading  history.  It  was  he  who 
said,  ( Give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death.' " 

"Was  it?  I  didn't  know.  But  I'm  glad  to 
hear  of  somebody  who  got  smashed  first  and  cele 
brated  afterwards.  It's  generally  the  other  way, 
like  Napoleon  and  Julius  Caesar." 

"Cardinal  Wolsey,  Alexander  the  Great,  and 
John  Gilpin.  It's  easy  to  multiply  examples,  as 
the  books  say." 


88  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"You're  much  too  clever  for  me  this  evening. 
I  must  be  going  home.  My  mother  and  I  are 
going  to  dine  all  alone  and  abuse  our  neighbours 
all  the  evening." 

"  How  delightful !  "  exclaimed  Katharine,  think 
ing  of  the  grim  family  table  at  which  she  was  to 
sit  as  usual  —  there  had  been  some  fine  fighting  in 
Charlotte's  unmarried  days,  but  Katharine's  oppo 
sition  was  generally  of  the  silent  kind. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Ralston.  "  There's  nobody  like 
my  mother.  She's  the  best  company  in  the  world. 
Good  night,  cousin  Emma.  Good  night,  Katharine." 

But  Katharine  followed  him  into  the  entry, 
letting  the  library  door  almost  close  behind  her. 

"  It  will  be  quite  time  enough,  if  you  come  and 
tell  me  on  the  evening  before  it  is  to  be,"  she 
whispered  hurriedly.  "There's  no  party  to-mor 
row  night,  but  on  Wednesday  I'm  going  to  the 
Thirlwalls'  dance." 

"  Will  any  morning  do  ?  "  asked  Ralston,  also  in 
a  whisper. 

"Yes,  any  morning.  Now  go  —  quick.  That's 
enough,  dear  —  there,  if  you  must.  Go  —  good 
night  —  dear  ! " 

The  process  of  leave-taking  was  rather  spas 
modic,  so  far  as  Katharine  was  concerned.  Rals 
ton  felt  that  same  strange  emotion  once  more  as 
he  found  himself  out  upon  the  pavement  of  Clinton 
Place.  His  head  swam  a  little,  and  lie  stopped  to 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  89 

light  a  cigarette  before  lie  turned  towards  Fifth 
Avenue. 

Katharine  went  back  into  the  library,  and  found 
her  mother  sitting  as  the  two  had  left  her,  and 
apparently  unconscious  that  her  daughter  had  gone 
out  of  the  room. 

"He's  quite  right,  mother  dear.  You  are  trying 
to  do  too  much,"  said  Katharine,  coming  behind 
the  low  chair  and  smoothing  her  mother's  beautiful 
hair,  kissing  it  softly  and  speaking  into  the  heavy 
waves  of  it. 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  put  up  one  thin  hand,  and 
patted  the  girl's  cheek  without  turning  to  look  at 
her,  but  said  nothing  for  a  moment. 

"  It's  quite  true,"  Katharine  said.  "  You  mustn't 
do  it  any  more." 

"How  smooth  your  cheek  is,  child!"  said  Mrs. 
Lauderdale,  thoughtfully. 

"  So  is  yours,  mother  dear." 

«  No  —  it's  not.  It's  full  of  little  lines.  Touch 
it — you  can  feel  them  —  just  there.  Besides  — 
you  can  see  them." 

"I  don't  feel  anything  —  and  I  don't  see  any 
thing,"  answered  Katharine. 

But  she  knew  what  her  mother  meant,  and  it 
made  her  a  little  sad  —  even  her.  She  had  been 
accustomed  all  her  life  to  believe  that  her  mother 
was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world,  and 
she  knew  that  the  time  had  just  come  when  she 


90  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

must  grow  used  to  not  believing  it  any  longer. 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  never  said  anything  of  the 
sort  before.  She  had  been  supreme  in  her  way, 
and  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  she  was,  never 
referring  to  her  own  looks  under  any  circumstances. 

In  the  long  silence  that  followed,  Katharine 
quietly  went  and  closed  the  shutters  of  the  win 
dows,  for  Ralston  had  only  pulled  down  the  shades. 
She  drew  the  dark  curtains  across  for  the  evening, 
lit  another  gaslight,  and  remained  standing  by  the 
fireplace. 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale. 

"I  do  wish  papa  would  let  us  have  lamps,  or 
shades,  or  something,"  said  Katharine,  looking 
disconsolately  at  the  ground-glass  globes  of  the 
gaslights. 

"  He  doesn't  like  them  —  he  says  he  can't  see." 

There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  Oh,  mother  dear  !  what  in  the  world  does  papa 
like,  I  wonder  ?  "  Katharine  turned  with  an  impa 
tient  movement  as  she  spoke,  and  her  broad  eye 
brows  almost  met  between  her  eyes. 

"Hush,  child!"  But  the  words  were  uttered 
wearily  and  mechanically  —  Mrs.  Lauderdale  had 
pronounced  them  so  often  under  precisely  the 
same  circumstances  during  the  last  quarter  of  a 
century. 

Katharine  sighed,  a  little  out  of  impatience  and 
to  some  extent  in  pity  for  her  mother.  But  she 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  91 

stood  looking  across  the  room  at  the  closed  door 
through  which  Ralston  and  she  had  gone  out 
together  five  minutes  earlier,  and  she  could  still 
feel  his  last  kiss  on  her  cheek.  He  had  never 
seemed  so  loving  as  on  that  day,  and  she  had  suc 
ceeded  in  persuading  him,  against  his  instinctive 
judgment,  to  promise  her  what  she  asked,  —  the 
maddest,  most  foolish  thing  a  girl's  imagination 
could  long  for,  no  matter  with  what  half-reason 
able  excuse.  But  she  had  his  promise,  which,  as 
she  well  knew,  he  would  keep  —  and  she  loved 
him  with  all  her  heart.  The  expression  of  mingled 
sadness  and  impatience  vanished  like  a  breath  from 
a  polished  mirror.  She  was  unconscious  that  she 
looked  radiantly  happy,  as  her  mother  gazed  up 
into  her  face. 

"  What  a  beautiful  creature  you  are  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Lauderdale,  in  a  tone  unlike  her  natural  voice. 


CHAPTER   V. 

KATHARINE  had  no  anxiety  about  the  future, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  managed  matters 
in  the  wisest  and  most  satisfactory  manner  possi 
ble.  She  had  provided,  as  she  thought,  against 
the  possibility  of  any  subsequent  interference  with 
her  marriage  in  case  she  should  see  fit  to  take  the 
step  of  which  she  had  spoken.  The  combination 
seemed  perfect,  and  even  a  sensible  person,  taking 
into  consideration  all  the  circumstances,  might 
have  found  something  to  say  in  favour  of  a  mar 
riage  which  should  not  be  generally  discussed. 
Ralston  and  Katharine,  though  not  rich,  were 
decidedly  prominent  young  people  in  their  own 
society,  and  their  goings  and  comings  interested 
the  gossips  and  furnished  food  for  conversation. 
There  were  many  reasons  for  this.  Neither  of 
them  was  exactly  like  the  average  young  person 
in  the  world.  But  the  great  name  of  Lauderdale, 
which  was  such  a  real  power  in  the  financial  world, 
contributed  most  largely  to  the  result.  Every  one 
who  bore  it,  or  who  was  as  closely  connected  with 
it  as  the  Ralstons,  was  more  or  less  before  the 
public.  Most  of  the  society  paragraph  writers  in 
92 


KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  93 

the  newspapers  spoke  of  the  family,  collectively 
and  individually,  as  often  as  they  could  find  any 
thing  to  say  about  it,  and  as  a  general  rule  the 
tone  of  their  remarks  was  subdued  and  laudatory, 
and  betrayed  something  very  like  awe.  The  pres 
ence  of  the  Lauderdales  and  the  Ralstons  was 
taken  for  granted  in  all  accounts  of  big  parties, 
first  nights  at  the  opera  and  Daly's,  and  of  other 
similar  occasions.  From  time  to  time  a  newspaper 
man  in  a  fit  of  statistics  calculated  how  many 
dollars  of  income  accrued  to  Robert  Lauderdale 
at  every  minute,  and  proceeded  to  show  how  much 
each  member  of  the  family  would  have  if  it  were 
all  equally  divided.  As  Robert  the  Rich  had  made 
his  money  in  real  estate,  and  his  name  never  ap 
peared  in  connection  with  operations  in  Wall 
Street,  he  was  therefore  not  periodically  assailed 
by  the  wrathful  chorus  of  the  sold  and  ruined, 
abusing  him  and  his  people  to  the  youngest  of 
the  living  generation,  an  ordeal  with  which  the 
great  speculators  are  familiar.  But  from  time  to 
time  the  daily  papers  published  wood-cuts  sup 
posed  to  be  portraits  of  him  and  his  connections, 
and  the  obituary  notice  of  him  —  which  was,  of 
course,  kept  ready  in  every  newspaper  office  — 
would  have  given  even  the  old  gentleman  himself 
some  satisfaction.  The  only  member  of  the  family 
who  suffered  at  all  for  being  connected  with  him 
was  Benjamin  Slayback,  the  member  of  Congress. 


94  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

If  he  ever  dared  to  hint  at  any  measure  implying 
expenditure  on  the  part  of  the  country,  he  was 
promptly  informed  by  some  Honourable  Member  on 
the  other  side,  that  it  was  all  very  well  for  him  to 
be  reckless,  with  the  whole  Lauderdale  fortune 
at  his  back,  but  that  ordinary  mortals  had  to  con 
tent  themselves  with  ordinary  possibilities.  The 
member  from  California  called  him  the  Eastern 
Croesus,  and  the  member  from  Massachusetts  called 
him  the  Western  Millionaire,  and  the  member  from 
Missouri  quoted  Scripture  at  him,  while  the  Social- 
Democrat  member  from  Somewhere  —  there  was 
one  at  that  time,  and  he  was  a  little  curiosity  in 
his  way  —  called  him  a  Capitalist,  than  which 
epithet  the  social-democratic  dictionary  contains 
none  more  biting  and  more  offensive  in  the  opin 
ion  of  its  compilers.  Altogether,  at  such  times 
the  Honourable  Slayback  of  Nevada  had  a  very  bad 
quarter  of  an  hour  because  he  had  married  Charlotte 
Lauderdale,  —  penniless  but  a  Lauderdale,  very 
inadequately  fitted  out  for  a  bride,  though  she  was 
the  grand-niece  of  Kobert  the  Rich.  Slayback  of 
Nevada,  however,  had  a  certain  rough  dignity  of 
his  own,  and  never  mentioned  those  facts.  He  had 
plenty  of  money  himself  and  did  not  covet  any  that 
belonged  to  his  wife's  relations. 

"  I'm  not  as  rich  as  your  uncle  Kobert,"  he  said 
to  her  on  the  day  after  their  marriage,  "and  I 
don't  count  on  being.  But  you  can  have  all  you 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  95 

want.  There's  enough  to  go  round,  now.  Maybe 
you  wouldn't  like  to  be  bothering  me  all  the 
while  for  little  things  ?  Yes,  that's  natural ;  so 
I'll  just  put  something  up  to  your  credit  at  Riggs's 
and  you  can  have  a  cheque-book.  When  you've 
got  through  it,  tell  Riggs  to  let  me  know.  You 
might  be  shy  of  telling  me." 

And  Benjamin  Slayback  smiled  in  a  kindly 
fashion  not  at  all  familiar  to  his  men  friends, 
and  on  the  following  day  Charlotte  received  a 
notice  from  the  bank  to  the  effect  that  ten  thou 
sand  dollars  stood  to  her  credit.  Never  having 
had  any  money  of  her  own,  the  sum  seemed  a  for 
tune  to  her,  and  she  showed  herself  properly 
grateful,  and  forgave  Benjamin  a  multitude  of 
small  sins,  even  such  as  having  once  worn  a  white 
satin  tie  in  the  evening,  and  at  the  opera,  of  all 
places. 

Katharine  was  perfectly  well  aware  that  the 
smallest  actions  of  her  family  were  subjects  for 
public  discussion,  and  she  knew  how  people  would 
talk  if  it  were  ever  discovered  that  she  had  been 
secretly  married  to  John  Ralston.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  rest  of  the  Lauderdales  were  in  the 
same  position,  and  would  be  quite  willing,  when 
they  were  acquainted  with  the  facts,  to  say  that 
the  marriage  had  been  a  private  one,  leaving  it  to 
be  supposed  that  they  had  known  all  about  it  from 
the  first.  She  had  no  anxiety  for  the  future, 


96  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

therefore,  and  believed  that  she  was  acting  with 
her  eyes  open  to  all  conceivable  contingencies  and 
possibilities.  Matters  were  not,  indeed,  finally 
settled,  for  even  after  she  was  married  she  would 
still  have  the  interview  with  her  uncle  to  face ; 
but  she  felt  sure  of  the  result.  It  was  so  easy  for 
him  to  do  exactly  what  he  pleased,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  to  make  or  unmake  men's  fortunes  at  his 
will,  as  she  could  tie  and  untie  a  bit  of  string. 

And  her  confidence  in  Ralston  was  boundless. 
Considering  his  capacities,  as  they  appeared  to 
her,  his  failure  to  do  anything  for  himself  in  the 
two  positions  which  had  been  offered  to  him  was 
not  to  be  considered  a  failure  at  all.  He  was  a 
man  of  action,  and  he  was  an  exceptionally  well- 
educated  man.  How  could  he  ever  be  expected 
to  do  an  ordinary  clerk's  work  ?  It  was  absurd  to 
suppose  that  he  could  change  his  whole  character 
at  a  moment's  notice,  and  it  was  an  insult  to 
expect  that  he  should  change  it  at  all.  It  was 
a  splendid  nature,  she  thought,  generous,  energetic, 
brave,  averse  to  mean  details,  of  course,  as  such 
natures  must  be,  impatient  of  control,  independent 
and  dominating.  There  was  much  to  admire  in 
Ralston,  she  believed,  even  if  she  had  not  loved 
him.  And  perhaps  she  was  right,  from  her  point 
of  view.  Of  his  chief  fault  she  really  knew  noth 
ing.  The  little  she  had  heard  of  his  being  wild, 
as  it  is  called,  rather  attracted  than  repelled  her. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  97 

She  despised  men  whom  she  looked  upon  as 
1  duffers '  and  '  muffs.'  Even  her  father,  whose 
peculiarities  were  hard  to  bear,  was  manly  in  his 
way.  He  had  been  good  at  sports  in  his  youth, 
he  was  a  good  rider,  and  could  be  trusted  with 
horses  that  did  not  belong  to  him,  which  was  for 
tunate,  as  he  had  never  possessed  any  of  his  own  j 
he  was  a  good  shot,  as  she  had  often  heard,  and  he 
periodically  disappeared  upon  solitary  salmon-fish 
ing  expeditions  on  the  borders  of  Canada.  For  he 
was  a  strong  man  and  a  tough  man,  and  needed 
much  bodily  exercise.  The  only  real  '  muff '  there 
had  ever  been  in  the  family  Katharine  considered 
to  be  her  grandfather,  the  philanthropist,  and  he 
was  so  old  that  it  did  not  matter  much.  But  the 
tales  he  told  of  his  studious  youth  disgusted  her,  for 
some  occult  reason.  All  the  other  male  relations 
were  manly  fellows,  even  to  little  Frank  Miner, 
who  was  as  full  of  fight  as  a  cock-sparrow,  in  spite 
of  his  diminutive  stature.  Benjamin  Slayback, 
too,  was  eminently  manly,  in  an  awkward,  con 
strained  fashion.  Hamilton  Bright  was  an  ath 
lete.  And  John  Kalston  could  do  all  the  things 
which  the  others  could  do,  and  did  most  things 
a  trifle  better,  with  a  certain  finished  '  style ' 
which  other  men  envied.  He  was  eminently  the 
kind  of  man  whose  acquaintances  at  the  club  will 
back  for  money  in  every  contest  requiring  skill  and 
strength. 


98  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Katharine  admired  him. 
But  she  told  herself  that  her  admiration  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  love.  There  was  much 
more  in  him  than  the  world  knew  of,  and  she  was 
quite  sure  of  it.  Her  ideals  were  high,  and  Rals 
ton  fulfilled  most  of  them.  She  always  fancied 
that  there  was  something  knightly  about  him,  and 
it  appealed  to  her  more  than  any  other  charac 
teristic. 

She  felt  that  he  could  be  intimate  without  ever 
becoming  familiar.  There  is  more  in  that  idea 
than  appears  at  first  sight,  and  the  distinction  is 
not  one  of  words.  Up  to  a  certain  point  she  was 
quite  right  in  making  it,  fur  he  was  naturally 
courtly,  as  well  as  ordinarily  courteous,  and  yet 
without  exaggeration.  He  did  certain  things 
which  few  other  men  did,  and  which  she  liked. 
He  walked  on  her  left  side,  for  instance,  whenever 
it  was  possible,  if  they  chanced  to  be  together  in 
the  street.  She  had  never  spoken  of  it  to  him, 
but  she  had  read,  in  some  old  book  on  court  man 
ners,  that  it  was  right  a  hundred  years  ago,  and 
she  was  pleased.  They  had  been  children  together, 
and  yet  almost  since  she  could  remember  he  had 
always  opened  the  door  for  her  when  she  left  a 
room.  And  not  for  her  only,  but  for  every  woman. 
If  she  and  her  mother  were  together  when  they 
met  him,  he  always  spoke  to  her  mother  first.  If 
they  got  into  a  carriage  he  expected  to  sit  on  the 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  99 

left  side,  even  if  lie  had  to  leave  the  pavement  and 
go  to  the  other  door  to  get  in.  He  never  spoke  of 
her  simply  as  *  Katharine'  if  he  had  to  mention 
her  name  in  her  presence  to  any  one  not  a  member 
of  the  family.  He  said  'my  cousin  Katharine/ 
or  { Miss  Lauderdale,'  according  to  circumstances. 
They  were  little  things,  all  of  them,  but  by  no 
means  absurd  in  her  estimation,  and  he  would 
continue  to  do  them  all  his  life.  She  supposed 
that  his  mother  had  taught  him  the  usages  of 
courtesy  when  he  had  been  a  boy,  but  they  were 
a  part  of  himself  now.  How  many  men,  thought 
Katharine,  who  believed  themselves  '  perfect  gen 
tlemen,'  and  who  were  undeniably  gentlemen  in 
every  essential,  were  wholly  lacking  in  these  small 
matters  !  How  many  would  have  called  such  things 
old-fashioned  nonsense,  who  had  never  so  much  as 
noticed  that  Ralston  did  them  all,  because  he  did 
them  unobtrusively,  and  because,  in  reality,  most 
of  them  are  founded  on  perfectly  logical  principles, 
and  originally  had  nothing  but  the  convenience  of 
society  for  their  object.  Katharine  had  thought  it 
out.  For  instance,  most  men,  being  right-handed, 
have  the  more  skilful  hand  and  the  stronger  arm 
on  the  lady's  side,  with  which  to  render  her  any 
assistance  she  may  need,  if  they  find  themselves 
on  her  left.  There  was  never  any  affectation  of 
fashion  about  really  good  manners,  Katharine  be 
lieved,  and  everything  appertaining  thereto  had  a 


100  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

solid  foundation  in  usefulness.  During  Slayback's 
courtship  of  her  sister  she  had  found  numberless 
opportunities  of  contrasting  what  she  called  the 
social  efficiency  of  the  man  who  knew  exactly  what 
to  do  with  the  inefficiency  of  him  who  did  not ; 
and,  on  a  more  limited  scale,  she  found  such 
opportunities  daily  when  she  saw  Ralston  together 
with  other  men. 

He  had  a  very  high  standard  of  honour,  too. 
Many  men  had  that,  and  all  whom  she  knew  were 
supposed  to  have  it,  but  there  were  few  whom  she 
felt  that  she  could  never  possibly  suspect  of  some 
little  meanness.  That  was  another  step  to  the 
pedestal  on  which  she  had  set  up  her  ideal. 

But  perhaps  one  of  the  chief  points  which  ap 
pealed  to  her  sympathy  was  Ralston's  breadth  of 
view,  or  absence  of  narrowness.  He  had  spoken 
the  strict  truth  that  evening  when  he  had  said  that 
he  never  laughed  at  any  one's  religion,  and,  next 
to  love,  religion  was  at  that  time  uppermost  in 
Katharine  Lauderdale's  mind.  At  her  present  stage 
of  development  everything  she  did,  saw,  read  and 
heard  bore  upon  one  or  the  other,  or  both,  which 
was  not  surprising  considering  the  atmosphere  in 
which  she  had  grown  up. 

Alexander  Junior  had  never  made  but  one  sac 
rifice  for  his  wife,  and  that  had  been  of  a  negative 
description.  He  had  forgiven  her  for  being  a 
Roman  Catholic,  and  had  agreed  never  to  mention 


KATHARINE  LA,UJ)EHT> ALE.- ,     ,  ;    101 

the  subject ;  and  he  had  kept  his  word,  as  indeed 
he  always  did  on  the  very  rare  occasions  when  he 
could  be  induced  to  give  it.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  he  had  made  a  virtue  of  his  conduct  in  this 
respect,  for  he  systematically  made  the  most  of 
everything  in  himself  which  could  be  construed 
into  a  virtue  at  all.  But  at  all  events  he  had 
never  broken  his  promise.  In  the  days  when  he 
had  married  Emma  Camperdown  there  had  been 
little  or  no  difficulty  about  marriages  between  Cath 
olics  and  members  of  other  churches,  and  it  had 
been  understood  that  his  children  were  to  be 
brought  up  Presbyterians,  though  nothing  had  been 
openly  said  about  it.  His  bride  had  been  young, 
beautiful  and  enthusiastic,  and  she  had  believed  in 
her  heart  that  before  very  long  she  could  effect  her 
husband's  conversion,  little  dreaming  of  the  rigid 
nature  with  which  she  should  have  to  deal.  It 
would  have  been  as  easy  to  make  a  Roman  Cath 
olic  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  as  Mrs.  Lauderdale  soon 
discovered  to  her  sorrow.  He  did  not  even  con 
sider  that  she  had  any  right  to  talk  of  religion  to 
her  children. 

Charlotte  Lauderdale  grew  up  in  perfect  indif 
ference.  Her  mind  developed  young,  but  not  far. 
In  her  childhood  she  was  a  favourite  of  old  Mrs. 
Lauderdale,  —  formerly  a  Miss  Mainwaring,  of 
English  extraction,  and  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Rals 
ton,  —  and  the  old  lady  had  taught  her  that 


10.2  KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE. 

Presbyterians  were  no  better  than  atheists,  and 
that  Roman  Catholics  were  idolaters,  so  that  the 
only  salvation  lay  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  The 
lesson  had  entered  deep  into  the  girl's  heart,  and 
she  had  grown  up  laughing  at  all  three  ;  but  on 
coming  to  years  of  discretion  she  went  to  an  Epis 
copal  church  because  most  of  her  friends  did.  She 
enjoyed  the  weekly  fray  with  her  father,  whom 
she  hated  for  his  own  sake  in  the  first  place,  and 
secondly  because  he  was  poor,  and  she  once  went 
so  far  as  to  make  him  declare,  in  his  iron  voice, 
that  he  vastly  preferred  Catholics  to  Episcopalians, 
—  a  declaration  which  she  ever  afterwards  cast 
violently  in  his  teeth  when  she  had  succeeded  in 
drawing  him  into  a  discussion  upon  articles  of  faith. 
Her  mother  never  had  the  slightest  influence  over 
her.  The  girl  was  quick-witted  and  believed  her 
self  clever,  was  amusing  and  thought  she  was 
witty,  was  headstrong,  capricious  and  violent  in 
her  dislikes  and  was  consequently  convinced  that 
she  had  a  very  strong  will.  She  married  Slayback 
for  three  reasons,  —  to  escape  from  her  family, 
because  he  was  rich,  and  because  she  believed  that 
she  could  do  anything  she  chose  with  him.  She 
was  not  mistaken  in  his  wealth,  and  she  removed 
herself  altogether  from  the  sphere  of  the  Lauder- 
dales,  but  Benjamin  Slayback  was  not  at  all  the 
kind  of  person  she  had  taken  him  for. 

Katharine   was   altogether    different    from    her 


KATHARINE  LAUDEKDALE.  103 

sister.  She  was  more  habitually  silent,  and  her 
taste  was  never  for  family  war.  She  thought  more 
and  read  less  than  Charlotte,  who  devoured  litera 
ture  promiscuously  and  trusted  to  luck  to  remember 
something  of  what  she  read.  Indeed,  Katharine 
thought  a  great  deal,  and  often  reasoned  correctly 
from  inaccurate  knowledge.  In  a  healthy  way  she 
was  inclined  to  be  melancholic,  and  was  given  to 
following  out  serious  ideas,  and  even  to  something 
like  religious  contemplation.  Everything  con 
nected  with  belief  in  transcendental  matters  inter 
ested  her  exceedingly.  She  delighted  in  having 
discussions  which  turned  upon  the  supernatural, 
and  upon  such  things  as  seem  to  promise  a  link 
between  the  hither  and  the  further  side  of  death's 
boundary,  —  between  the  cis-mortal  and  the  trans- 
mortal,  if  the  coining  of  such  words  be  allowable. 
In  this  she  resembled  nine-tenths  of  the  American 
women  of  her  age  and  surroundings.  The  mind  of 
the  idle  portion  of  American  society  to-day  re 
minds  one  of  a  polypus  whose  countless  feelers 
are  perpetually  waving  and  writhing  in  the  fruit 
less  attempt  to  catch  the  very  smallest  fragment 
of  something  from  the  other  side,  wherewith  to 
satisfy  the  mortal  hunger  that  torments  it. 

There  is  something  more  than  painful,  something 
like  an  act  of  the  world's  soul-tragedy,  in  this  all- 
pervading  desire  to  know  the  worst,  or  the  best,  — 
to  know  anything  which  shall  prove  that  there  is 


104  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

something  to  know.  There  is  a  breathless  interest 
in  every  detail  of  an  f  experience '  as  it  is  related, 
a  raising  of  hopes,  a  thrilling  of  the  long-ready 
receptivity  as  the  point  is  approached ;  and  then, 
when  the  climax  is  reached  and  past,  there  is  the 
sudden,  almost  agonizing  relapse  into  blank  hope 
lessness.  The  story  has  been  told,  but  nothing  is 
proved.  We  know  where  the  door  is,  but  before  it 
is  a  screen  round  which  we  must  pass  to  reach  it. 
The  screen  is  death,  as  we  see  it.  To  pass  it  and 
be  within  sight  of  the  threshold  is  to  die,  as  we 
understand  death,  and  there  lies  the  boundary  of 
possible  experience,  for,  so  far  as  we  know,  there 
is  no  other  door. 

The  question  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest  which 
humanity  can  ask,  for  the  answer  must  be  immor 
tality  or  annihilation.  It  seems  that  a  certain 
proportion  of  mankind,  driven  to  distraction  by 
the  battle  of  beliefs,  has  actually  lost  the  faculty 
of  believing  anything  at  all,  and  the  place  where 
the  faculty  was  aches,  to  speak  familiarly. 

That,  at  least,  was  how  it  struck  Katharine 
Lauderdale,  and  it  was  from  this  point  of  view 
that  she  seriously  contemplated  becoming  a  Cath 
olic.  If  she  did  so,  she  intended  to  accept  the 
Church  as  a  whole  and  refuse,  forever  afterwards, 
to  reopen  the  discussion.  She  never  could  accept 
it  as  her  mother  did,  for  she  had  not  been  brought 
up  in  it,  but  there  were  days  when  she  felt  that 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      105 

by  a  single  act  of  will  she  could  bind  herself 
to  believe  in  all  the  essentials,  and  close  her  eyes 
to  the  existence  of  the  non-essentials,  never  to  open 
them  again.  Then,  she  thought,  she  should  never 
have  any  more  doubts. 

But  on  other  days  she  wished  that  there  might 
be  another  way.  She  got  odd  numbers  of  the  pro 
ceedings  of  a  society  devoted  to  psychological 
researches,  and  read  with  extreme  avidity  the 
accurately  reported  evidence  of  persons  who  had 
seen  or  heard  unusual  sights  or  sounds,  and  studied 
the  figures  illustrating  the  experiments  in  thought- 
transference.  Then  the  conviction  came  upon  her 
that  there  must  be  another  door  besides  the  door 
of  death,  and  that,  if  she  were  only  patient  she 
might  be  led  to  it  or  come  upon  it  unawares.  She 
knew  far  too  little  of  even  what  little  there  is  to  be 
known,  to  get  any  further  than  this  vague  and  not 
unpleasant  dream,  and  she  was  conscious  of  her 
ignorance,  asking  questions  of  every  one  she 
met  who  took  the  slightest  interest  in  psychical 
enquiries.  Of  course,  her  attempts  to  gain  knowl 
edge  were  fruitless.  If  any  one  who  is  willing  to 
be  a  member  of  civilized  society  knew  anything  defi 
nite  about  what  we  call  the  future  state,  the  whole 
of  civilized  society  would  know  it  also  in  less  than  a 
month.  Every  one  can  be  quite  sure  of  that,  and 
no  one  need  therefore  waste  time  in  questioning  his 
neighbour  in  the  hope  of  learning  anything  certain. 


106      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

There  were  even  times  when  her  father's  rigid 
and  merciless  view  of  the  soul  pleased  her,  and  was 
in  sympathy  with  her  slightly  melancholic  temper 
ament.  The  unbending,  manly  quality  of  the 
Presbyterian  belief  attracted  her  by  its  strength 
—  the  courage  a  man  must  have  to  go  through  life 
facing  an  almost  inevitable  hell  for  himself  and 
the  positive  certainty  of  irrecoverable  damnation 
for  most  of  those  dearest  to  him.  If  her  father 
was  in  earnest,  as  he  appeared  to  be,  he  could  not 
have  the  slightest  hope  that  her  mother  could  be 
saved.  At  that  idea  Katharine  laughed,  being  sup 
posed  to  be  a  Presbyterian  herself.  Nevertheless, 
she  sometimes  liked  his  hard  sayings  and  doings, 
simply  because  they  were  hard.  Hamilton  Bright 
had  often  told  her  that  she  had  a  lawyer's  mind, 
because  she  could  not  help  seeing  things  from  oppo 
site  sides  at  the  same  time,  whereupon  she  always 
answered  that  though  she  despised  prejudices,  she 
liked  people  who  had  them,  because  such  persons 
were  generally  stronger  than  the  average.  Ralston, 
who  had  not  many,  and  had  none  at  all  about  re 
ligious  matters,  was  the  man  with  whom  she  felt 
herself  in  the  closest  sympathy,  a  fact  which  went 
far  to  prove  to  Bright  that  he  was  not  mistaken  in 
his  judgment  of  her. 

On  the  whole,  in  spite  of  the  declaration  she  had 
made  to  Ralston,  Katharine  Lauderdale's  state  was 
sceptical,  in  the  sense  that  her  mind  was  in  a  con- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  107 

dition  of  suspended  judgment  between  no  less  than 
five  points  of  view,  the  Presbyterian,  the  Catholic, 
the  deistic,  the  psychologic,  and  the  materialistic. 
It  was  her  misfortune  that  her  nature  had  led  her  to 
think  of  such  matters  at  all,  rather  than  to  accept 
some  existing  form  of  belief  and  to  be  as  happy  as 
she  could  be  with  it  from  the  first,  as  her  mother 
had  done :  and  though  her  intelligence  was  good, 
it  was  as  totally  inadequate  to  grapple  with  such 
subjects  as  it  was  well  adapted  to  the  ordinary  re 
quirements  of  worldly  life.  But  she  was  not  to  be 
blamed  for  being  in  a  state  of  mind  to  which  her 
rather  unusual  surroundings  had  contributed  much, 
and  her  thoughtful  temperament  not  a  little.  If 
anything,  she  was  to  be  pitied,  though  the  mighty 
compensation  of  a  genuine  love  had  grown  up  year 
by  year  to  neutralize  the  elements  of  unhappiness 
which  were  undoubtedly  present. 

It  is  worth  noticing  that  at  this  time,  which 
opened  the  crucial  period  of  her  life,  she  doubted 
her  own  religious  convictions  and  her  own  stability 
of  purpose,  but  she  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt 
the  sincerity  of  her  love  for  John  Ralston,  nor  of 
his  for  her,  as  she  conclusively  proved  when  she 
determined  to  risk  her  whole  life  in  such  a  piece  of 
folly  as  a  secret  marriage. 

When  she  came  down  to  dinner  on  that  memo 
rable  evening,  she  found  her  father  and  mother 
sitting  on  opposite  sides  of  the  fireplace.  Alexan- 


108  KATHARINE  LAUDERUALE. 

der  Junior  was  correctly  arrayed  in  evening  dress, 
and  his  clothes  fitted  perfectly  upon  his  magnificent 
figure.  The  keen  eye  of  a  suspicious  dandy  could 
have  detected  that  they  were  very  old  clothes,  and 
Mr.  Lauderdale  would  not  have  felt  at  all  dismayed 
at  the  discovery  of  the  fact.  He  prided  himself 
upon  wearing  a  coat  ten  years,  and  could  tell 
the  precise  age  of  every  garment  in  his  possession. 
He  tied  his  ties  to  perfection  also,  and  this,  too, 
was  an  economy,  for  such  was  his  skill  that  he 
could  wear  a  white  tie  twice,  bringing  the  knot  into 
exactly  the  same  place  a  second  time.  Mont  Blanc 
presented  not  a  more  spotless,  impenetrable,  and 
unchanging  front  than  Alexander  Junior's  shirt. 
He  had  processes  of  rejuvenating  his  shoes  known 
to  him  alone,  and  in  the  old  days  of  evening  gloves, 
his  were  systematically  cleaned  and  rematched,  and 
the  odd  ones  laid  aside  to  replace  possible  torn  ones 
in  the  future,  constituting  a  veritable  survival  of 
the  fittest.  Five  and  twenty  years  of  married  life 
had  not  taught  him  that  a  woman  could  not  possi 
bly  do  the  same  with  her  possessions,  and  he  occa 
sionally  enquired  why  his  wife  did  not  wear  certain 
gowns  which  had  been  young  with  her  daughters. 
He  never  put  on  the  previously  mentioned  white 
tie,  however,  unless  some  one  was  coming  to  dinner. 
When  the  family  was  alone,  he  wore  a  black  one. 
As  he  was  not  hospitable,  and  did  not  encourage 
hospitality  in  his  wife,  though  he  praised  it  extrav- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  109 

agantly  in  other  people,  and  never  refused  a  dinner 
party,  the  black  tie  was  the  rule  at  home.  Black 
ties  last  a  long  time. 

Katharine  noticed  the  white  one  this  evening,  and 
was  surprised,  as  her  mother  had  not  spoken  to  her 
of  any  guest. 

"  Who  is  coming  to  dinner  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at 
her  father,  almost  as  soon  as  she  had  shut  the  door. 

Mr.  Lauderdale's  steel-grey  upper  lip  was  imme 
diately  raised  in  a  sort  of  smile  which  showed  his 
large  white  teeth  —  he  had  defied  the  dentist  from 
his  youth  up,  and  his  smile  was  hard  and  cold  as 
an  electric  light. 

"Ah,  my  dear  child,"  he  answered  in  a  clear, 
metallic  voice,  "  I  am  glad  you  notice  things. 
Little  things  are  always  worth  noticing.  Walter 
Crowdie  is  coming  to  dinner  to-day.  In  fact,  he  is 
rather  late  —  " 

"  With  Hester  ? "  asked  Katharine,  quickly. 
Hester  Crowdie  was  Hamilton  Bright's  sister,  and 
Katharine  liked  her. 

"  No,  my  dear,  without  Hester.  We  could  hardly 
ask  two  people  to  our  every-day  dinner." 

"  Oh  —  it's  only  Mr.  Crowdie,  then,"  said  Kath 
arine  in  a  tone  of  disappointment,  sitting  down 
beside  her  mother. 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  nice  to  him,  Katharine,"  said 
Mr.  Lauderdale.     "  There  are  many  reasons  —  " 
"  Oh,  yes !   I'll  be  nice  to  him,"   answered   the 


110  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

young  girl,  with  a  short,  quick  frown  that  disap 
peared  again  instantly. 

"I  don't  like  your  expression,  my  child,"  said 
Alexander  Junior,  severely,  "  and  I  don't  like  to  be 
interrupted.  Mr.  Crowdie  is  very  kind.  He  wishes 
to  paint  your  portrait,  and  he  proposes  to  give  us 
the  study  he  must  make  first,  which  will  be  just  as 
good  as  the  picture  itself,  I  have  no  doubt.  Crowdie 
is  getting  a  great  reputation,  and  a  picture  by  him 
is  valuable.  One  can't  afford  to  be  rude  to  a  man 
who  makes  such  a  proposal." 

"  No,"  observed  Mrs.  Lauderdale  as  though  speak 
ing  to  herself.  "I  should  really  like  to  have  it. 
He  is  a  great  artist." 

"  1  haven't  the  least  intention  of  being  rude  to 
him,"  answered  Katharine.  "  What  does  he  mean 
to  do  with  my  portrait  —  with  the  picture  itself 
when  he  has  painted  it  —  sell  it  ?  " 

"He  would  have  a  perfect  right  to  sell  it,  of 
course  —  with  no  name.  He  means  to  exhibit  it  in 
Paris,  I  believe,  and  then  I  think  he  intends  to 
give  it  to  his  wife.  You  always  say  she  is  a  great 
friend  of  yours." 

"Oh  — that's  all  right,  if  it's  for  Hester,"  said 
Katharine.  "Of  course  she's  a  friend  of  mine. 
Hush  !  I  hear  the  bell." 

"  When  did  Mr.  Crowdie  talk  to  you  about  this  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  addressing  her  husband. 

"This  morning  —  hush!     Here  he  is." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  Ill 

Alexander  Junior  had  an  almost  abnormal 
respect  for  the  proprieties,  and  always  preferred 
to  stop  talking  about  a  person  five  minutes  before 
he  or  she  appeared.  It  was  a  part  of  his  exces 
sively  reticent  nature. 

The  door  opened  and  Walter  Crowdie  appeared, 
a  pale  young  man  with  heavy,  red  lips  and  a  bad 
figure.  His  eyes  alone  redeemed  his  face  from 
being  positively  repulsive,  for  they  were  of  a  very 
beautiful  blue  colour  and  shaded  by  extremely 
long  brown  lashes.  A  quantity  of  pale  hair,  too 
long  to  be  neat,  but  not  so  long  as  worn  by  many 
modern  musicians,  concealed  the  shape  of  his  head 
and  grew  low  on  his  forehead.  The  shape  of  the 
face,  as  the  hair  allowed  it  to  be  seen,  resembled 
that  of  a  pear,  wide  and  flaccid  about  the  jaws 
and  narrowing  upwards  towards  the  temples. 
Crowdie's  hands  were  small,  cushioned  with  fat, 
and  of  a  dead  white  —  the  fingers  being  very 
pointed  and  the  nails  long  and  polished.  His 
shoulders  sloped  like  a  woman's,  and  were  narrow, 
and  he  was  heavy  about  the  waist  and  slightly  in- 
kneed.  He  was  too  fashionable  to  use  perfumes,  but 
one  instinctively  expected  him  to  smell  of  musk. 

Both  women  experienced  an  unpleasant  sensation 
when  he  entered  the  room.  What  Mr.  Lauderdale 
felt  it  is  impossible  to  guess,  but  as  Katharine  saw 
the  two  shake  hands  she  was  proud  of  her  father 
and  of  the  whole  manly  race  from  which  she  was 
descended. 


112  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Last  of  all  the  party  came  Alexander  Senior, 
taking  the  utmost  advantage  of  age's  privilege  to 
be  late.  Even  he,  within  sight  of  his  life's  end, 
contrasted  favourably  with  Walter  Crowdie.  He 
stooped,  he  was  badly  dressed,  his  white  tie  was 
crooked,  and  there  were  most  evident  spots  on  his 
coat;  his  eyes  were  watery,  and  there  were  wrin 
kles  running  in  all  directions  through  the  eye 
brows,  the  wrinkles  that  come  last  of  all;  he 
shambled  a  little  as  he  walked,  and  he  certainly 
smelt  of  tobacco  smoke.  He  had  not  been  the 
strongest  of  the  three  old  brothers,  though  he  was 
the  eldest,  and  his  faculties,  if  not  impaired,  were 
not  what  they  had  been.  But  the  skull  was  large 
and  bony,  the  knotted  and  wrinkled  old  hands  were 
manly  hands,  and  always  had  been,  and  the  benev 
olent  old  grey  eyes  had  never  had  the  womanish 
look  in  them  which  belonged  to  Crowdie's. 

But  the  young  man  was  quite  unconscious  of  the 
unfavourable  impression  he  always  produced  upon 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  and  her  daughter,  and  his  lan 
guishing  eyelids  moved  softly  and  swept  his  pale 
cheeks  with  their  long  lashes  as  he  looked  from 
one  to  the  other  and  shook  hands. 

Alexander  Junior,  whose  sense  of  punctuality 
had  almost  taken  offence,  rang  the  bell  as  his 
father  entered,  and  a  serving  girl,  who  lived  in 
terror  of  her  life,  drew  back  the  folding  doors  a 
moment  later. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  conversation  at  dinner  did  not  begin  brill 
iantly.  Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  tired,  and  Katharine 
was  preoccupied;  as  was  natural,  old  Mr.  Lauder 
dale  was  not  easily  moved  to  talk  except  upon  his 
favourite  hobby,  and  Alexander  Junior  was  sol 
emnly  and  ferociously  hungry,  as  many  strong 
men  are  at  regular  hours.  As  for  Crowdie,  he 
always  felt  a  little  out  of  his  element  amongst 
his  wife's  relations,  of  whom  he  stood  somewhat 
in  awe,  and  he  was  more  observant  than  com 
municative  at  first.  Katharine  avoided  looking 
at  him,  which  she  could  easily  do,  as  she  sat 
between  him  and  her  father.  As  usual,  it  was 
her  mother  who  made  the  first  effort  to  talk. 

"How  is  Hester?"  she  asked,  looking  across 
at  Crowdie. 

"Oh,  very  well,  thanks,"  he  answered,  absently. 
"  Oh,  yes,  —  she's  very  well,  thank  you,"  he  added, 
repeating  the  answer  with  a  little  change  and 
more  animation.  "She  had  a  cold  last  week,  but 
she's  got  over  it." 

"  It  was  dreadful  weather,"  said  Katharine,  help- 
113 


114  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

ing  her  mother  to  stir  the  silence.  "All  grand 
papa's  idiots  had  the  grippe." 

"All  Mr.  Lauderdale's  what  ?"  asked  Crowdie. 
"I  didn't  quite  catch  —  " 

"The  idiots  —  the  asylum,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes  —  I  remember,"  said  the  young  man, 
and  his  broad  red  lips  smiled. 

Alexander  Senior,  whose  hand  shook  a  little,  had 
eaten  his  soup  with  considerable  success.  He 
glanced  from  Katharine  to  the  young  artist,  and 
there  was  a  twinkle  of  amusement  in  the  kindly 
old  eyes. 

"Katharine  always  laughs  at  the  idiots,  and 
talks  as  though  they  were  my  personal  prop 
erty."  His  voice  was  deep  and  almost  musical 
still  —  it  had  been  a  very  gentle  voice  in  his 
youth. 

"Not  a  very  valuable  property,"  observed  Alex 
ander  Junior,  fixing  his  eye  severely  on  the  serving 
girl,  who  forthwith  sprang  at  Mrs.  Lauderdale's 
empty  plate  as  though  her  life  depended  on  taking 
it  away  in  time. 

The  Lauderdales  had  never  kept  a  man-servant. 
The  girl  was  a  handsome  Canadian,  very  smart  in 
black  and  white. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  rather  an  idea  to  insure  all 
their  lives,  and  make  the  insurance  pay  the  ex 
penses  of  the  asylum?"  enquired  Crowdie,  gravely 
looking  at  Alexander  Junior. 


KATHAEINE  LAUDEEDALE.  115 

"Not  very  practical,"  answered  the  latter,  with 
something  like  a  smile. 

"Why  not?  "  asked  his  father,  with  sudden  inter 
est.  "  That  strikes  me  as  a  very  brilliant  idea  for 
making  charities  self-supporting.  I  suppose,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  his  son,  "  that  the  companies 
could  make  no  objections  to  insuring  the  lives  of 
idiots.  The  rate  ought  to  be  very  reasonable  when 
one  considers  the  care  they  get,  and  the  medical  at 
tendance,  and  the  immunity  from  risk  of  accident." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  When  an  asylum 
takes  fire,  the  idiots  haven't  the  sense  to  get  out," 
observed  Alexander  Junior,  grimly. 

"  Nonsense !  Nonsense,  Alexander !  "  The  old 
man  shook  his  head.  "Idiots  are  just  as  —  well, 
not  quite  as  sensible  as  other  people,  —  that  would 
be  an  exaggeration  —  but  they're  not  all  so  stupid, 
by  any  means." 

"No  —  so  I've  heard,"  said  Crowdie,  gravely. 

"So  stupid  as  what,  Mr.  Crowdie?"  asked 
Katharine,  turning  on  him  rather  abruptly. 

"As  others,  Miss  Lauderdale — as  me,  for  in 
stance,"  he  answered,  without  hesitation.  "Prob 
ably  we  both  meant  —  Mr.  Lauderdale  and  I  — 
that  all  idiots  are  not  so  stupid  as  the  worst  cases, 
which  are  the  ones  most  people  think  of  when 
idiots  are  mentioned." 

"Exactly.  You  put  it  very  well."  The  old 
philanthropist  looked  pleased  at  the  interruption. 


116  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  And  I  repeat  that  I  think  Mr.  Crowdie's  idea 
of  insuring  them  is  very  good.  Every  time  one 
dies,  —  they  do  die,  poor  things, — you  get  a  sum 
of  money.  Excellent,  very  excellent ! " 

His  ideas  of  business  transactions  had  always 
been  hazy  in  the  extreme,  and  his  son  proceeded 
to  set  him  right. 

"It  couldn't  possibly  be  of  any  advantage  unless 
you  had  capital  to  invest  and  insured  your  own 
idiots,"  said  Alexander  Junior.  "And  that  would 
just  amount  to  making  a  savings  bank  on  your  own 
account,  and  saving  so  much  a  year  out  of  your 
expenses  for  each  idiot.  You  could  invest  the 
savings,  and  the  interest  would  be  all  you  could 
possibly  make.  It's  not  as  though  the  idiots' 
families  paid  the  dues  and  made  over  the  policies 
to  you.  There  would  be  money  in  that,  I  admit. 
You  might  try  it.  There  might  be  a  streak  of 
idiocy  in  the  other  members  of  the  patient's  family 
which  would  make  them  agree  to  it." 

The  old  man's  gentle  eyes  suddenly  lighted  up 
with  ill  temper. 

"You're  laughing  at  me,  Alexander,"  he  said,  in 
a  louder  voice.  "  You're  laughing  at  me ! " 

"No,  sir;  I'm  in  earnest,"  answered  the  son,  in 
his  cool,  metallic  tones. 

"Don't  the  big  companies  insure  their  own 
ships?"  asked  the  philanthropist.  "Of  course 
they  do.  and  they  make  money  by  it." 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  117 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  They  make  nothing  but 
the  interest  of  what  they  set  aside  for  each  ship. 
They  simply  cover  their  losses." 

"Well,  and  if  an  idiot  dies,  then  the  asylum  gets 
the  money." 

"  Yes,  sir.    But  an  idiot  has  no  intrinsic  value." 

"Why,  then  the  asylum  gets  a  sum  of  money 
for  what  was  worth  nothing,  and  it  must  be 
very  profitable  —  much  more  so  than  insuring 
ships." 

"But  it's  the  asylum's  own  money  to  begin 
with  —  " 

"And  as  for  your  saying  that  an  idiot  has  no 
intrinsic  value,  Alexander,"  pursued  the  old  man, 
going  off  on  another  tack,  "I  won't  have  you  say 
such  things.  I  won't  listen  to  them.  An  idiot 
is  a  human  being,  sir,  and  has  an  immortal  soul, 
I'd  have  you  to  know,  as  well  as  you  or  I.  And 
you  have  the  assurance  to  say  that  he  has  no 
intrinsic  value !  An  immortal  soul,  made  for 
eternal  happiness  or  eternal  suffering,  and  no  in 
trinsic  value!  Upon  my  word,  Alexander,  you 
forget  yourself  !  I  should  not  have  expected  such 
an  inhuman  speech  from  you." 

"  Is  the  l  vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame '  a  mar 
ketable  commodity  ?  "  asked  Crowdie,  speaking  to 
Katharine  in  a  low  voice. 

"Idiots  have  souls,  Mr.  Crowdie,"  said  the  phi 
lanthropist,  looking  straight  across  at  him,  and 


118  KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE. 

taking  it  for  granted  that  he  had  said  something 
in  opposition. 

"Fve  no  doubt  they  have,  Mr.  Lauderdale," 
answered  the  painter.  "I  never  thought  of  ques 
tioning  the  fact." 

"Oh!  I  thought  you  did.  I  understood  that 
you  were  laughing  at  the  idea." 

"Not  at  all.  It  was  the  use  of  the  word  ' intrin 
sic  '  as  applied  to  the  value  of  the  soul  which 
struck  me  as  odd." 

"Ah  —  that  is  quite  another  matter,  my  dear 
sir,"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  who  was  quickly 
appeased.  "  My  son  first  used  the  word  in  this  dis 
cussion.  I'm  not  responsible  for  it.  The  younger 
generation  is  not  so  careful  in  its  language  as  we 
were  taught  to  be.  But  the  important  point,  after 
all,  is  that  idiots  have  souls." 

"  The  soul  is  the  only  thing  anybody  really  can 
be  said  to  have  as  his  own,"  said  Crowdie,  thought 
fully. 

Katharine  glanced  at  him.  He  did  not  look  like 
the  kind  of  man  to  make  such  a  speech  with  sin 
cerity.  She  wondered  vaguely  what  his  soul  would 
be  like,  if  she  could  see  it,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  it  would  be  something  strange  —  white,  with 
red  lips,  singing  an  evil  song,  which  she  could  not 
understand,  in  a  velvet  voice,  and  that  it  would 
smell  of  musk.  The  side  of  her  that  was  towards 
him  instinctively  shrank  a  little  from  him. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  119 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Mr.  Crowdie," 
said  the  philanthropist  with  approbation.  "  It 
closes  the  discussion  very  fittingly.  I  hope  we 
shall  hear  no  more  of  idiots  not  having  souls. 
Poor  things !  It  is  almost  the  only  thing  they 
have  that  makes  them  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"  People  are  all  so  different,"  replied  the  artist. 
"  I  find  that  more  and  more  true  every  day.  And 
it  takes  a  soul  to  understand  a  soul.  Otherwise 
photography  would  take  the  place  of  portrait 
painting." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  that,"  said  Alexander  Junior, 
who  had  employed  the  last  few  minutes  in  satisfy 
ing  his  first  pangs  of  hunger,  having  been  inter 
rupted  by  the  passage  of  arms  with  his  father. 
"  What  becomes  of  colour  in  photography  ?  " 

"  What  becomes  of  colour  in  a  charcoal  or  pen 
and  ink  drawing  ?  "  asked  Crowdie.  "  Yet  either,  if 
at  all  good,  is  preferable  to  the  best  photograph." 

"  I'm  not  sure  of  that.  I  like  a  good  photo 
graph.  It  is  much  more  accurate  than  any  draw 
ing  can  be." 

"  Yes  —  but  it  has  no  soul,"  objected  Crowdie. 

"  How  can  an  inanimate  object  have  a  soul,  sir  ?  " 
asked  the  philanthropist,  suddenly.  "  That  is  as 
bad  as  saying  that  idiots  — " 

"I  mean  that  a  photograph  has  nothing  which 
suggests  the  soul  of  the  original,"  said  Crowdie, 
interrupting  and  speaking  in  a  high,  clear  tone. 


120  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

He  had  a  beautiful  tenor  voice,  and  sang  well; 
and  he  possessed  the  power  of  making  himself 
heard  easily  against  many  other  voices. 

"It  is  the  exact  representation  of  the  person," 
argued  Alexander  Junior,  whose  ideas  upon  art 
were  limited. 

"Excuse  me.  Even  that  is  not  scientifically 
true.  There  can  only  be  one  point  in  the  whole 
photograph  which  is  precisely  in  focus.  But  that 
is  not  what  I  mean.  Every  face  has  something 
besides  the  lines  and  the  colour.  For  want  of  a 
better  word,  we  call  it  the  expression  —  it  is  the 
individuality  —  the  soul  —  the  real  person  —  the 
something  which  the  hand  can  suggest,  but  which 
nothing  mechanical  can  ever  reproduce.  The  artist 
who  can  give  it  has  talent,  even  if  he  does  not 
know  how  to  draw.  The  best  draughtsman  and 
painter  in  the  world  is  only  a  mechanic  if  he  can 
not  give  it.  Mrs.  Lauderdale  paints  —  and  paints 
well  —  she  knows  what  I  mean." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale.  "  The  fact 
that  there  is  something  which  we  can  only  suggest 
but  never  show  would  alone  prove  the  existence  of 
the  soul  to  any  one  who  paints." 

"I  don't  understand  those  things,"  said  Alex 
ander  Junior. 

"Grandpapa,"  said  Katharine,  suddenly,  "if 
any  one  asserted  that  there  was  no  such  a  thing  as 
the  soul,  what  should  you  answer  ?  " 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  121 

"  I  should  tell  him  that  he  was  a  blasphemer," 
answered  the  old  gentleman,  promptly  and  with 
energy. 

"But  that  wouldn't  be  an  argument,"  retorted 
the  young  girl. 

"He  would  discover  the  force  of  it  hereafter," 
said  her  father.  The  electric  smile  followed  the 
words. 

Crowdie  looked  at  Katharine  and  smiled  also, 
but  she  did  not  see. 

"  But  isn't  a  man  entitled  to  an  argument  ?  " 
she  asked.  "I  mean  —  if  any  one  really  couldn't 
believe  that  he  had  a  soul  —  there  are  such 
people  —  " 

"Lots  of  them,"  observed  Crowdie. 

"  It's  their  own  fault,  then,  and  they  deserve  no 
mercy  —  and  they  will  find  none,"  said  Alexander 
Junior. 

"Then  believing  is  a  matter  of  will,  like  doing 
right,"  argued  the  young  girl.  "And  a  man  has 
only  to  say,  '  I  believe,'  and  he  will  believe,  because 
he  wills  it." 

But  neither  of  the  Lauderdales  had  any  inten 
tion  of  being  drawn  out  on  that  point.  They  were 
good  Presbyterians,  and  were  Scotch  by  direct 
descent ;  and  they  knew  well  enough  what  direc 
tion  the  discussion  must  take  if  it  were  prolonged. 
The  old  gentleman  put  a  stop  to  it. 

"  The  questions  of  the  nature  of  belief  and  free 


122  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

will  are  pretty  deep  ones,  my  dear,"  he  said,  kindly, 
"  and  they  are  not  of  the  sort  to  be  discussed  idly 
at  dinner." 

Strange  to  say,  that  was  the  species  of  answer 
which  pleased  Katharine  best.  She  liked  the  un 
compromising  force  of  genuinely  prejudiced  people 
who  only  allowed  argument  to  proceed  when  they 
were  sure  of  a  logical  result  in  their  own  favour. 
Alexander  Junior  nodded  approvingly,  and  took 
some  more  beef.  He  abhorred  bread,  vegetables, 
and  sweet  things,  and  cared  only  for  what  pro 
duced  the  greatest  amount  of  energy  in  the  shortest 
time.  It  was  astonishing  that  such  iron  strength 
should  have  accomplished  nothing  in  nearly  fifty 
years  of  life. 

"Yes,"  said  Crowdie,  "they  are  rather  important 
things.  But  I  don't  think  that  there  are  so  many 
people  who  deny  the  existence  of  the  soul  as  peo 
ple  who  want  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  about  it,  by 
getting  a  glimpse  at  it.  Hester  and  I  dine  out  a 
good  deal  —  people  are  very  kind,  and  always  ask 
us  to  dinners  because  they  know  I  can't  go  out  to 
late  parties  on  account  of  my  work  —  so  we  are 
always  dining  out ;  and  we  were  saying  only  to-day 
that  at  nine-tenths  of  the  dinners  we  go  to  the 
conversation  sooner  or  later  turns  on  the  soul,  or 
psychical  research,  or  Buddhism,  or  ghosts,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  It's  odd,  isn't  it,  that 
there  should  be  so  much  talk  about  those  things 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  123 

just  now  ?  I  think  it  shows  a  kind  of  general 
curiosity.  Everybody  wants  to  get  hold  of  a  soul 
and  study  its  habits,  as  though  it  were  an  orni- 
thorynchus  or  some  queer  animal  —  it  is  strange, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  suddenly 
joining  in  the  conversation.  "If  you  once  cut 
loose  from  your  own  form  of  belief  there's  no  par 
ticular  reason  why  you  should  be  satisfied  with 
that  of  any  one  else.  If  a  man  leaves  his  house 
without  an  object  there's  nothing  to  make  him  go 
in  one  direction  rather  than  in  another." 

"  So  far  as  that  is  concerned,  I  agree  with  you/' 
said  Alexander  Junior. 

"There  is  truth  to  direct  him,"  observed  the 
philanthropist. 

"And  there  is  beauty,"  said  Crowdie,  turning 
his  head  towards  Mrs.  Lauderdale  and  his  eyes 
towards  Katharine. 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  "  exclaimed  the  latter.  "  If  you 
are  going  to  jumble  the  soul,  and  art,  and  everything, 
all  together,  there  are  lots  of  things  to  lead  one. 
Where  does  beauty  lead  you,  Mr.  Crowdie  ?  " 

"  To  imagine  a  vain  thing,"  answered  the  painter 
with  a  soft  laugh.  "  It  also  leads  me  to  try  and 
copy  it,  with  what  I  imagine  it  means,  and  I  don't 
always  succeed." 

"  I  hope  you'll  succeed  if  you  paint  my  daughter's 
portrait,"  remarked  Alexander  Junior. 


124  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  No,"  Crowdie  replied  thoughtfully,  and  looking 
at  Katharine  quite  directly  now.  "  I  shan't  succeed, 
but  if  Miss  Lauderdale  will  let  me  try,  I'll  promise 
to  do  my  very  best.  Will  you,  Miss  Lauderdale  ? 
Your  father  said  he  thought  you  would  have 
no  objection." 

"  I  said  you  would,  Katharine,  and  I  said  nothing 
about  objections,"  said  her  father,  who  loved 
accurate  statements. 

Katharine  did  not  like  to  be  ordered  to  do  any 
thing  and  the  short,  quick  frown  bent  her  brows 
for  a  second. 

"  I  am  much  flattered,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  You  will  not  be,  when  I  have  finished,  I  fear/' 
said  Crowdie,  with  quick  tact.  "  Please,  Miss  Lau 
derdale,  I  don't  want  you  to  sit  to  me  as  a  matter 
of  duty,  because  your  father  is  good  enough  to  ask 
you.  That  isn't  it,  at  all.  Please  understand.  It's 
for  Hester,  you  know.  She's  such  a  friend  of  yours, 
and  you're  such  a  friend  of  hers,  and  I  want  to 
surprise  her  with  a  Christmas  present,  and  there's 
nothing  she'd  like  so  much  as  a  picture  of  you. 
I  don't  say  anything  about  the  pleasure  it  will  be 
to  me  to  paint  you  —  it's  just  for  her.  Will 
you?" 

"Of  course  I  will,"  answered  Katharine,  her 
brow  clearing  and  her  tone  changing. 

She  had  not  looked  at  him  while  he  was  speaking, 
and  she  was  struck,  as  she  had  often  been,  by  the 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  125 

exquisite  beauty  of  his  voice  when  he  spoke 
familiarly  and  softly.  It  was  like  his  eyes,  smooth, 
rich  and  almost  woman-like. 

"And  when  will  you  come?"  he  asked.  "To 
morrow  ?  Next  day  ?  Would  eleven  o'clock  suit 
you  ?  " 

"To-morrow,  if  you  like,"  answered  the  young 
girl.  "  Eleven  will  do  perfectly." 

"  Will  you  come  too,  Mrs.  Lauderdale  ?  "  Crow- 
die  asked,  without  changing  his  manner. 

"  Yes  —  that  is  —  not  to-morrow.  I'll  come  one 
of  these  days  and  see  how  you  are  getting  on. 
It's  a  long  time  since  I've  seen  you  at  work,  and 
I  should  enjoy  it  ever  so  much.  But  I  should 
rather  come  when  it's  well  begun.  I  shall  learn 
more." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  learn  much  from  me,  Mrs. 
Lauderdale.  It's  very  different  work  from  minia 
ture  —  and  I  have  no  rule.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
longer  I  paint  the  more  hopeless  all  rules  are. 
Ten  years  ago,  when  I  was  working  in  Paris,  I 
used  to  believe  in  canons  of  art,  and  fixed  princi 
ples,  and  methods,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But 
I  can't  any  more.  I  do  it  anyhow,  just  as  it  seems 
to  come  —  with  anything  —  with  a  stump,  a  brush, 
a  rag,  hands,  fingers,  anything.  I  should  not  be 
surprised  to  find  myself  drawing  with  my  elbow 
and  painting  with  the  back  of  my  head !  No, 
really  —  I  sometimes  think  the  back  of  my  head 


126  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

would  be  a  very  good  brush  to  do  fur  with.     Any 
way  —  only  to  get  at  the  real  thing." 

"  I  once  saw  a  painter  who  had  no  arms,"  said 
the  old  gentleman.  « It  was  in  Paris,  and  he  held 
the  brushes  with  his  toes.  There  is  an  idiot  in  the 
asylum  now,  who  likes  nothing  better  than  to  pull 
his  shoes  off  and  tie  knots  in  a  rope  with  his 
feet  all  day  long." 

"  He  is  probably  one  of  us,"  suggested  Crowdie. 
"  We  artists  are  all  half-witted.  Give  him  a  brush 
and  see  whether  he  has  any  talent  for  painting  with 
his  toes." 

"That's  an  idea,"  answered  the  philanthropist, 
thoughtfully.  «  Transference  of  manual  skill  from 
hands  to  feet,"  he  continued  in  a  low,  dreamy 
voice,  thinking  aloud.  "  Abnormal  connections  of 
nerves  with  next  adjoining  brain  centres  —  yes 
—  there  might  be  something  in  it  —  yes  —  yes  —  " 

The  old  gentleman  had  theories  of  his  own 
about  nerves  and  brain  centres.  He  had  never 
even  studied  anatomy,  but  he  speculated  in  the 
wildest  manner  upon  the  probability  of  impossible 
cases  of  nerve  derangement  and  imperfect  develop 
ment,  and  had  long  believed  himself  an  authority 
on  the  subject. 

The  dinner  was  quite  as  short  as  most  modern 
meals.  Old  Mr.  Lauderdale  and  Crowdie  smoked, 
and  Alexander  Junior,  who  despised  such  weak 
nesses,  stayed  in  the  dining-room  with  them. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  127 

Neither  Mrs.  Lauderdale  nor  Katharine  would  have 
objected  to  smoking  in  the  library,  but  Alexander's 
inflexible  conservatism  abhorred  such  a  practice. 

"I  can't  tell  why  it  is,"  said  Katharine,  when 
she  was  alone  with  her  mother,  "but  that  man 
is  positively  repulsive  to  me.  It  must  be  some 
thing  besides  his  ugliness,  and  even  that  ought  to 
be  redeemed  by  his  eyes  and  that  beautiful  voice 
of  his.  But  it's  not.  There's  something  about 
him  — "  She  stopped,  in  the  sheer  impossibility 
of  expressing  her  meaning. 

Her  mother  said  nothing  in  answer,  but  looked 
at  her  with  calm  and  quiet  eyes,  rather  thought 
fully. 

"  Is  it  very  foolish  of  me,  mother  ?  Don't  you 
notice  something,  too,  when  he's  near  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He's  like  a  poisonous  flower." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  wanted  to  say.    That  and 

—  the  title  of  Tennyson's  poem,  what  is  it?     Oh 

—  l  A  Vision  of  Sin  '  —  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  Poor  Crowdie  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lauderdale, 
laughing  a  little,  but  still  looking  at  Katharine. 

"  I  wonder  what  induced  Hester  to  marry  him." 

"  He  fascinated  her.  Besides,  she's  very  fond  of 
music,  and  so  is  he,  and  he  sang  to  her  and  she 
played  for  him.  It  seems  to  have  succeeded  very 
well.  I  believe  they  are  perfectly  happy." 

"Oh,  perfectly.  At  least,  Hester  always  says 
so.  But  did  you  ever  notice  —  sometimes,  without 


128      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

any  special  reason,  she  looks  at  him  so  anxiously  ? 
Just  as  though  she  expected  something  to  happen 
to  him,  or  that  he  should  do  something  queer.  It 
may  be  my  imagination." 

"  I  never  noticed  it.  She's  tremendously  in  love 
with  him.  That  may  account  for  it." 

"Well  —  if  she's  happy  —  "  Katharine  did  not 
h'nish  the  sentence.  "He  does  stare  dreadfully, 
though,"  she  resumed  a  moment  later.  "But  I 
suppose  all  artists  do  that.  They  are  always  look 
ing  at  one's  features.  You  don't,  though." 

"I?  I'm  always  looking  at  people's  faces  and 
trying  to  see  how  I  could  paint  them  best.  But  I 
don't  stare.  People  don't  like  it,  and  it  isn't 
necessary.  Crowdie  is  vain.  He  has  beautiful 
eyes  and  he  wants  every  one  to  notice  them." 

"If  that's  it,  at  all  events  he  has  the  sense  to 
be  vain  of  his  best  point,"  said  Katharine.  "  He's 
not  an  artist  for  nothing.  And  he's  certainly  very 
clever  in  all  sorts  of  ways." 

"  He  didn't  say  anything  particularly  clever  at 
dinner,  I  thought.  By  the  bye,  was  the  dinner 
good  ?  Your  father  didn't  tell  me  Crowdie  was 
coming." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  did  very  well,"  answered  Katharine, 
in  a  reassuring  tone.  "  At  least,  I  didn't  notice 
what  we  had.  He  always  takes  away  my  appetite. 
I  shall  go  and  steal  something  when  he's  gone. 
Let's  sit  up  late,  mother  —  just  you  and  I  —  after 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  129 

papa  has  gone  to  bed,  and  we'll  light  a  little  wee 
fire,  and  have  a  tiny  bit  of  supper,  and  make  our 
selves  comfortable,  and  abuse  Mr.  Crowdie  just  as 
much  as  we  like.  Won't  that  be  nice  ?  Do  ! " 

"  Well  —  we'll  see  how  late  he  stays.  It's  only 
a  quarter  past  nine  yet.  Have  you  got  a  book, 
child?  I  am  going  to  read  that  article  about 
wet  paintings  on  pottery  —  I've  had  it  there  ever 
so  long,  and  the  men  won't  come  back  for  half  an 
hour  at  least." 

Katharine  found  something  to  read,  after  handing 
her  mother  the  review  from  the  table. 

"Perhaps  reading  a  little  will  take  away  the 
bad  taste  of  Crowdie,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  with 
a  laugh,  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  corner  of 
the  sofa. 

"I  wish  something  would,"  answered  Katharine, 
seating  herself  in  a  deep  chair,  and  opening  her 
book. 

But  she  found  it  hard  to  fix  her  attention,  and 
the  book  was  a  dull  one,  or  seemed  so,  as  the  best 
books  do  when  the  mind  is  drawn  and  stretched 
in  one  direction.  Her  thoughts  went  back  to  the 
twilight  hour,  when  Ealston  had  been  there,  and 
to  the  decided  step  she  was  about  to  take.  The 
only  wonder  was  that  she  had  been  able  to  talk 
with  a  tolerable  continuity  of  ideas  during  dinner, 
considering  what  her  position  was.  Assuredly  it 
was  a  daring  thing  which  she  meant  to  do,  and  she 


130  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

experienced  the  sensation  familiar  even  to  brave 
men  —  the  small,  utterly  unreasoning  temptation 
to  draw  back  just  before  the  real  danger  begins. 
Most  people  who  have  been  called  upon  to  do  some 
thing  very  dangerous,  with  fair  warning  and  in  per 
fectly  cold  blood,  know  that  little  feeling  and  are 
willing  to  acknowledge  it.  It  is  not  fear.  It  is  the 
inevitable  last  word  spoken  by  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation. 

There  are  men  who  have  never  felt  it  at  all, 
rare  instances  of  perfectly  phlegmatic  physical 
recklessness.  They  are  not  the  ones  who  deserve 
the  most  credit  for  doing  perilous  deeds.  And 
there  are  other  men,  even  fewer,  perhaps,  who 
have  felt  it,  but  have  ceased  to  feel  it,  in  whom 
all  love  of  life  is  so  totally  and  hopelessly  dead 
that  even  the  bodily,  human  impulse  to  avoid 
death  can  never  be  felt  again.  Such  men  are 
very  dangerous  in  fight.  <  Beware  of  him  who 
seeks  death/  says  an  ancient  Eastern  proverb. 
So  many  things  which  seem  impossible  are  easy 
if  the  value  of  life  itself  be  taken  out  of  the 
balance.  But  with  the  great  majority  of  the 
human  race  that  value  is  tolerably  well  defined. 
The  poor  Chinaman  who  sells  himself,  for  the 
benefit  of  his  family,  to  be  sliced  to  death  in 
the  stead  of  the  rich  criminal,  knows  within  an 
ounce  or  two  of  silver  what  his  existence  is  worth. 
The  bargain  has  been  made  so  often  \>y  others  that 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  131 

there  is  almost  a  tariff.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  sub 
ject,  but,  since  the  case  really  happens,  it  would 
be  a  curious  thing  to  hear  theologians  discuss  the 
morality  of  such  suicide  on  the  part  of  the  un 
fortunate  wretch.  Would  they  say  that  he  was 
forfeiting  the  hope  of  a  future  reward  by  giving 
himself  to  be  destroyed  for  money,  of  his  own  free 
will  ?  Or  would  they  account  it  to  him  for  right 
eousness  that  he  should  lay  down  his  life  to  save 
his  wife  and  children  from  starving  to  death  ?  For 
a  real  case,  as  it  is,  it  certainly  presents  difficulties 
which  approach  the  fantastic. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room,  as  it  had  been 
once  or  twice  when  there  had  been  a  silence  be 
tween  Katharine  and  Ralston  a  few  hours  earlier. 
The  furniture  was  all  just  as  it  had  been  —  hardly 
a  chair  had  been  turned.  The  scene  came  back 
vividly  to  the  young  girl's  imagination,  and  the 
sound  of  Kalston's  voice,  just  trembling  with  emo 
tion,  rang  again  in  her  ears.  That  had  been  the 
sweetest  of  all  the  many  sweet  hours  she  had 
spent  with  him  since  they  had  been  children.  Her 
book  fell  upon  her  knees  and  her  head  sank  back 
against  the  cushion.  With  lids  half  drooping,  she 
gazed  at  a  point  she  did  not  see.  The  softest  pos 
sible  light,  the  exquisite,  trembling  radiance  of 
spotless  maidenhood's  divinest  dream,  hovered  about 
the  lovely  face  and  the  girlish  lips  just  parted  to 
meet  in  the  memory  of  a  kiss. 


132  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Suddenly,  from  the  next  room,  as  the  three 
men  came  towards  the  closed  door  of  the  library, 
Crowdie's  laugh  broke  the  stillness,  high,  melo 
dious,  rich.  Some  men  have  a  habit  of  laughing 
at  anything  which  is  said  just  as  they  leave  the 
dining-room. 

Katharine  started  as  though  she  had  been  stung. 
She  was  unconscious  that  her  mother  had  ceased 
reading,  and  had  been  looking  at  her  for  several 
minutes,  wondering  why  she  had  never  fully 
appreciated  the  girl's  beauty  before. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she 
saw  the  start  and  the  quick  expression  of  resent 
ment  and  repulsion. 

"  It's  that  man's  voice  —  it's  so  beautiful  and 
yet  —  ugh  !  "  She  shivered  as  the  door  opened 
and  the  three  men  came  in. 

"You've  not  been  long,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale, 
looking  up  at  Crowdie.  "  I  hope  they  gave  you  a 
cigar  in  there." 

"  Oh,  yes,  thanks  —  and  a  very  good  one,  too," 
added  the  artist,  who  had  not  succeeded  in  smok 
ing  half  of  the  execrable  Connecticut  six-for-a- 
quarter  cigar  which  the  philanthropist  had  offered 
him. 

It  seemed  natural  enough  to  him  that  a  man 
who  devoted  himself  to  idiots  should  have  no 
taste,  and  he  would  have  opened  his  eyes  if  he 
had  been  told  that  the  Connecticut  tobacco  was 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  133 

one  of  the  economies  imposed  by  Alexander  Junior 
upon  his  long-suffering  father.  The  old  gentle 
man,  however,  was  really  not  very  particular,  and 
his  sufferings  were  not  to  be  compared  with  those 
of  Balzac's  saintly  charity-maniac,  when  he  gave 
up  his  Havanas  for  the  sake  of  his  poor  people. 

Crowdie  looked  at  Katharine,  as  he  answered 
her  mother,  and  continued  to  do  so,  though  he  sat 
down  beside  the  latter.  Katharine  had  risen  from 
her  seat,  and  was  standing  by  the  mantelpiece,  and 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  sitting  at  the  end  of  the  sofa 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  under  the  strong, 
unshaded  light  of  the  gas.  She  made  an  effort  to 
talk  to  her  guest,  for  the  sake  of  sparing  the  girl, 
though  she  felt  uncomfortably  tired,  and  wras  look 
ing  almost  ill. 

"Did  you  talk  any  more  about  the  soul,  after 
we  left  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  Crowdie. 

"No,"  he  answered,  still  gazing  at  Katharine, 
and  speaking  rather  absently.  "  We  talked  —  let 
me  see  —  I  think  —  "  He  hesitated. 

"  It  couldn't  have  been  very  interesting,  if  you 
don't  remember  what  it  was  about,"  said  Mrs. 
Lauderdale,  pleasantly.  "  We  must  try  and  amuse 
you  better  than  they  did,  or  you  won't  come  near 
us  again." 

"  Oh,  as  far  as  that  goes,  I'll  come  just  as  often 
as  you  ask  me,"  answered  Crowdie,  suddenly  look 
ing  at  his  shoes. 


134  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

But  lie  made  no  attempt  to  continue  the  conver 
sation.  Mrs.  Lauderdale  felt  a  little  womanly 
annoyance.  The  constant  and  life-long  habit  of 
being  considered  by  men  to  be  the  most  important 
person  in  the  room,  whenever  she  chose  to  be 
considered  at  all,  had  become  a  part  of  her  nature. 
She  made  up  her  mind  that  Crowdie  should  not 
only  listen  and  talk,  but  should  look  at  her. 

"  What  are  you  doing  now  ?  Another  portrait  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  I  know  you  are  always  busy." 

"  Oh,  yes  —  the  wife  of  a  man  who  has  a  silver 
mine  somewhere.  She's  fairly  good-looking,  for  a 
wonder." 

His  eyes  wandered  about  the  room,  and,  from 
time  to  time,  went  back  to  Katharine.  Old  Mr. 
Lauderdale  was  going  to  sleep  in  an  arm-chair, 
and  Alexander  Junior  was  reading  the  evening 
paper. 

"  Does  your  work  always  interest  you  as  it  did 
at  first  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  growing  more 
and  more  determined  to  fix  his  attention,  and 
speaking  softly.  "I  mean  —  are  you  happy  in  it 
and  with  it  ?  " 

His  languid  glance  met  hers  for  an  instant,  with 
an  odd  look  of  lazy  enquiry.  He  was  keen  and 
quick  of  intuition,  and  more  than  sufficiently  vain. 
There  is  a  certain  tone  of  voice  in  which  a  woman 
may  ask  a  man  if  he  is  happy  which  indicates  a  will 
ingness  to  play  at  flirtation.  Now,  it  had  never 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  135 

entered  the  head  of  Walter  Crowdie  that  Mrs. 
Lauderdale  could  possibly  care  to  flirt  with  him. 
Yet  the  tone  was  official,  so  to  say,  and  he  had 
some  right  to  be  surprised,  the  more  so  as  he 
had  never  heard  any  man  —  not  even  the  famous 
club-liar,  Stopford  Thirlwall  —  even  suggest  that 
she  had  ever  really  flirted  with  any  one,  or  do  any 
thing  worse  than  dance  to  the  very  end  of  every 
dancing  party,  and  generally  amuse  herself  in  an 
innocent  way  to  an  extent  that  would  have  ruined 
the  constitutions  of  most  women  not  born  in  Ken 
tucky.  Even  as  he  turned  to  look  at  her,  however, 
he  realized  the  absurdity  of  the  impression  he  had 
received,  and  his  eyes  went  mechanically  back  to 
Katharine's  profile.  The  smile  that  moved  his 
heavy,  red  mouth  was  for  himself,  as  he  answered 
Mrs.  Lauderdale's  question. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  quite  naturally.  "  I  love  it. 
I'm  perfectly  happy."  And  again  he  relapsed  into 
silence. 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  annoyed.  She  turned  her 
head,  under  the  glaring  light,  towards  the  carved 
pillar  at  the  right  of  the  fireplace.  An  absurd  little 
looking-glass  hung  by  a  silken  cord  from  the  mantel 
piece  to  the  level  of  her  eyes  —  one  of  those  small 
Persian  mirrors  set  in  a  case  of  embroidery,  such  as 
are  used  for  favours  at  cotillions. 

She  saw  very  suddenly  the  reflection  of  her  own 
face.  The  glass  was  perhaps  a  trifle  green,  which 


136      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

made  it  worse,  but  she  stared  in  a  sort  ..of  dumb 
horror,  realizing  in  a  single  moment  that  'she  had 
grown  old,  that  the  lines  had  deepened  until  every 
one  could  see  them,  that  the  eyes  looked  faded,  the 
hair  dull,  the  lips  almost  shrivelled,  the  once  daz 
zling  skin  flaccid  and  sallow  —  that  the  queenly 
beauty  was  gone,  a  perishable  thing  already  perished, 
a  memory  now  and  worse  than  a  memory,  a  cruelly 
bitter  regret  left  in  the  place  of  a  possession  half 
divine  that  was  lost  for  ever  and  ever,  dead  beyond 
resurrection,  gone  beyond  recall. 

That  was  the  most  terrible  moment  in  Mrs.  Lau- 
derdale's  life.  Fate  need  not  have  made  it  so 
appallingly  sudden  —  she  had  prepared  for  it  so 
long,  so  conscientiously,  trying  always  to  wean 
herself  from  a  vanity  the  sternest  would  forgive. 
And  it  had  seemed  to  be  coming  so  slowly,  by 
degrees  of  each  degree,  and  she  had  thought  it 
would  be  so  long  in  coining  quite.  And  now  it  was 
come,  in  the  flash  of  a  second.  But  the  bitterness 
was  not  past. 

Instinctively  in  the  silence  she  looked  up  before 
her  and  saw  her  daughter's  lovely  face.  Her  head 
reeled,  her  sight  swam.  A  great,  fierce  envy  caught 
at  her  heart  with  iron  fingers  and  wrung  it,  till  she 
could  have  screamed,  —  envy  of  her  who  was  dear 
est  to  her  of  all  living  things  —  of  Katharine. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

JOHN  RALSTON  had  given  his  word  to  Katharine 
and  he  intended  to  keep  it.  Whenever  he  was 
assailed  by  doubts  he  recalled  by  an  act  of  will 
the  state  of  mind  to  which  the  young  girl  had 
brought  him  on  Monday  evening,  and  how  he  had 
then  been  convinced  that  there  was  no  harm  in 
the  secret  marriage.  He  analyzed  his  position, 
too,  in  a  rough  and  ready  way,  with  the  intention 
of  proving  that  the  clandestine  ceremony  could  not 
be  of  any  advantage  to  himself,  that  it  was  there 
fore  not  from  any  selfish  motive  that  he  had  under 
taken  to  have  it  performed,  and  that,  consequently, 
since  the  action  itself  was  to  be  an  unselfish  one, 
there  could  be  nothing  even  faintly  dishonourable 
in  it.  For  he  did  not  really  believe  that  old 
Robert  Lauderdale  would  do  anything  for  him. 
On  the  contrary,  he  thought  it  most  likely  that 
the  old  man  would  be  very  angry  and  would  bid 
the  young  people  abide  by  the  consequences  of  their 
doings.  He  would  blame  Ralston  bitterly.  He 
would  not  believe  that  he  had  been  disinterested. 
He  would  say  that  he  had  married  Katharine,  and 
had  persuaded  her  to  the  marriage  in  the  hope  of 
137 


138      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

forcing  his  uncle  to  help  him,  out  of  consideration 
for  the  girl.  And  he  would  refuse  to  do  anything 
whatsoever.  He  might  even  go  so  far  as  to  strike 
the  names  of  both  from  his  will,  if  he  had  left 
them  a  legacy,  which  was  probable.  But,  to  do 
Ralston  justice,  so  long  as  he  was  sure  of  his  own 
motives  he  had  never  cared  a  straw  for  the  opinions 
others  might  form  of  them,  and  he  was  the  last 
man  in  the  world  to  assume  a  character  for  the 
sake  of  playing  on  the  feelings  of  a  rich  relation. 
If  Robert  Lauderdale  should  send  for  him,  and  be 
angry,  and  reproach  him  with  what  he  had  done, 
John  was  quite  capable  of  answering  that  he  had 
acted  from  motives  which  concerned  himself  only, 
that  he  was  answerable  to  no  one  but  Katharine 
herself  and  that  uncle  Robert  might  make  the  best 
of  it  at  his  leisure.  The  young  man  possessed 
that  sort  of  courage  in  abundance,  as  every  one 
knew,  and  being  aware  of  it  himself,  he  suspected, 
not  without  grounds  of  probability,  that  the  mil 
lionaire  was  aware  of  it  also,  and  would  simply 
leave  him  alone  to  his  own  devices,  refusing 
Katharine's  request,  and  never  mentioning  the 
question  again.  That  the  old  man  would  be  dis 
creet,  was  certain.  With  a  few  rare  exceptions, 
men  who  have  made  great  fortunes  unaided  have 
more  discretion  than  other  people,  and  can  keep 
secrets  remarkably  well. 

The  difficulty  which  presented  itself  to  Ralston 


KATHAEINE  LAUDEBDALE.  139 

at  once  was  a  material  one.  He  did  not  in  the 
least  know  how  such  an  affair  as  a  secret  marriage 
should  be  managed.  None  of  his  close  acquaint 
ances  had  ever  done  anything  so  unusual,  and 
although  he  knew  of  two  cases  which  had  occurred  in 
New  York  society,  the  one  in  recent  years  and  the 
other  long  ago,  he  had  no  means  of  finding  out  at 
short  notice  how  the  actual  formalities  necessary 
had  been  fulfilled  in  either  case.  He  knew,  how 
ever,  that  a  marriage  performed  by  a  respectable 
clergyman  of  any  denomination  was  legal,  and  that 
a  certificate  signed  by  him  was  perfectly  valid. 
He  had  heard  of  marriages  before  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  even  of  declarations  made  before  re 
spectable  witnesses  and  vouched  for,  which  had 
been  legal  marriages  beyond  dispute,  but  he  did 
not  like  the  look  of  anything  in  which  there  was 
no  religious  ceremony,  respectfully  indifferent 
though  he  was  to  all  religion.  The  code  of  honour, 
which  was  his  only  faith,  is  connected,  and  not 
even  very  distantly,  with  Christianity.  There 
are  honourable  men  of  all  religions  under  the  sun, 
including  that  of  Confucius,  but  we  do  not  associate 
the  expression  'the  code  of  honour '  with  non- 
Christians  —  which  is  singular  enough,  considering 
the  view  the  said  code  takes  of  some  moral  questions. 
There  must  be  a  marriage  service,  therefore, 
thought  Ralston,  and  it  must  be  performed  in  New 
York.  There  was  no  possibility  of  taking  Katharine 


140  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

into  a  neighbouring  State,  and  he  had  no  wish  to 
do  so  for  many  reasons.  He  was  not  without  fore 
sight,  and  he  intended  to  be  able  to  prove  at  any 
future  time  that  the  formality,  the  whole  formal 
ity,  and  nothing  but  the  formality  of  the  ceremony 
had  been  fulfilled.  It  was  not  easy.  He  racked 
his  recollections  in  vain,  and  he  read  all  the  news 
papers  published  that  morning  with  an  interest  he 
had  certainly  never  felt  in  them  before,  in  the  hope 
of  finding  some  account  of  a  case  similar  to  his 
own.  He  thought  of  going  to  a  number  of  clergy 
men,  of  the  social  type,  with  whom  he  had  a  speak 
ing  acquaintance,  and  of  laying  the  facts  before 
each  in  turn,  until  one  of  them  consented  to  marry 
him.  But  though  many  of  them  were  excellent 
men,  he  had  not  enough  confidence  in  their  dis 
cretion.  He  laughed  to  himself  when  he  thought 
that  the  only  men  he  knew  who  seemed  to  possess 
the  necessary  qualities  for  such  a  delicate  affair 
were  Kobert  the  Rich  himself  and  Hamilton 
Bright,  whom  Ralston  secretly  suspected  of  being 
somewhat  in  love  with  Katharine  on  his  own 
account.  It  was  odd,  he  thought,  that  of  all  the 
family  Bright  alone  should  resemble  old  Robert, 
physically  and  mentally,  but  the  resemblance  was 
undeniable,  though  the  relationship  only  consisted 
in  the  fact  that  Bright  was  descended  from  old 
Robert  Lauderdale's  grandfather,  the  primeval 
Alexander  often  mentioned  in  these  pages. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  141 

Ealston  turned  the  case  over  and  over  in  his 
mind.  He  thought  of  going  to  some  dissenting 
minister  quite  unknown  to  him,  and  trying  what 
eloquence  could  do.  He  had  heard  that  some  of 
them  were  men  of  heart  to  whom  one  could  appeal 
in  trouble.  But  he  knew  very  well  that  every  one 
of  them  would  tell  him  to  do  the  thing  openly,  or 
not  at  all,  and  the  mere  idea  revived  his  own  scru 
ples.  He  wondered  whether  there  were  not  churches 
where  the  marrying  was  done  by  batches  of  four 
and  five  couples  on  a  certain  Sunday  in  the  month, 
as  babies  are  baptized  in  some  parts  of  the  world, 
and  whether  he  and  Katharine  could  not  slip  in,  as 
it  were  by  mistake,  and  be  married  by  a  man  who 
did  not  even  know  their  names.  But  he  laughed 
at  the  idea  a  moment  later,  and  went  on  studying 
the  problem. 

Another  of  his  ideas  was  to  consult  a  detective, 
from  a  private  office.  Such  men  would,  in  all 
likelihood,  know  a  good  deal  about  runaway 
couples.  And  this  seemed  one  of  the  wisest 
plans  which  had  suggested  itself,  though  it  broke 
down  for  two  reasons.  He  hated  the  thought  of 
getting  at  his  result  by  the  help  of  a  man  belong 
ing  to  what  he  considered  a  mean  and  underhand 
profession;  and  he  reflected  that  such  men  were 
always  on  the  lookout  for  private  scandals,  and 
that  he  should  be  putting  himself  in  their  power. 
At  last  he  decided  to  consult  a  lawyer.  Lawyers 


142  KATUARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  doctors,  as  a  rule,  were  discreet,  he  thought, 
because  their  success  depended  on  their  discretion. 
He  could  easily  find  a  man  whom  he  had  never 
seen,  honest  and  able  to  keep  a  secret,  who  would 
give  him  the  information  he  wanted  in  a  profes 
sional  way  and  take  a  fee  for  the  trouble.  This 
seemed  to  him  honourable  and  wise.  He  wished 
everything  to  be  legal,  and  the  best  way  to  make 
it  so  was  to  follow  a  lawyer's  directions.  There 
was  not  even  a  doubt  but  that  the  said  lawyer,  if 
requested,  would  make  a  memorandum  of  the  case, 
and  take  charge  of  the  document  which  was  to 
prove  that  Katharine  Lauderdale  had  become  the 
lawful  wife  of  John  Ralston.  There  were  lists 
and  directories  in  which  he  could  find  the  names 
of  hundreds  of  such  men.  He  was  in  his  native 
city,  and  between  the  names  and  the  places  of 
business  he  thought  he  could  form  a  tolerably 
accurate  opinion  of  the  reputation  and  standing  of 
some,  if  not  of  all,  of  the  individuals. 

In  the  course  of  a  couple  of  hours  he  had  found 
what  he  wanted  —  a  lawyer  whose  name  was  known 
to  him  as  that  of  a  man  of  good  reputation  and  a 
gentleman,  one  whom  he  had  never  seen  and  who 
had  probably  never  seen  him,  old  enough,  as  he 
knew,  to  have  a  wide  experience,  yet  not  so  old  as 
to  be  justified  in  assuming  airs  of  vast  moral  supe 
riority  in  order  to  declare  primly  that  he  would 
never  help  a  young  man  to  commit  an  act  of  folly. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  143 

For  folly  it  was,  as  Ralston  knew  very  well  in  his 
heart. 

He  lost  no  time,  and  within  half  an  hour  was 
interviewing  the  authority  he  had  selected,  for,  by 
a  bit  of  good  luck,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to 
meet  the  lawyer  at  the  door  of  his  office,  just  re 
turning  from  luncheon.  Otherwise  he  might  have 
had  some  difficulty  in  gaining  immediate  admit 
tance.  He  found  him  to  be  a  grave,  keen  personage 
of  uncertain  age,  who  laid  his  glasses  beside  him 
on  his  desk  whenever  he  spoke,  and  put  them  on 
again  as  soon  as  he  had  done.  He  wiped  them 
carefully  when  Ralston  had  explained  what  he 
wanted,  and  then  paused  a  moment  before  reply 
ing.  Ralston  was  by  no  means  prepared  for  what 
he  said. 

"I  presume  you  are  a  novelist." 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him,  smiled  pleasantly, 
looked  away  and  turned  his  glasses  over  again. 

The  young  man  was  inclined  to  laugh.  No  one 
had  ever  before  taken  him  for  a  man  of  letters. 
He  hesitated,  however,  before  he  answered,  won 
dering  whether  he  had  not  better  accept  the  state 
ment  in  the  hope  of  getting  accurate  information, 
rather  than  risk  a  refusal  if  he  said  he  was  in 
earnest.  The  lawyer  took  his  hesitation  for  assent. 

"Because,  in  that  case,  it  would  not  be  at  all 
difficult  to  manage,"  he  continued,  without  waiting 
any  longer  for  a  reply.  "Lots  of  things  can 


144  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

happen  in  books,  you  see,  and  you  can  wind  up 
the  story  and  publish  it  before  the  people  in  the 
book  who  are  to  be  kept  in  the  dark  have  found 
out  the  secret.  In  real  life,  it  is  a  little  different, 
because,  though  it's  very  easy  to  be  married,  it's 
the  duty  of  the  person  who  marries  you  to  send 
a  certificate  or  statement  of  the  marriage  to  the 
office  where  the  record  of  statistics  is  kept." 

"  Oh !  "  ejaculated  Ralston,  and  his  face  fell.  "  I 
didn't  know  that." 

"Yes.  That's  necessary,  on  pain  of  a  fine.  And 
yet  the  marriage  may  remain  a  secret  a  long  while 
—  for  a  lifetime  under  favourable  circumstances. 
So  that  if  you  are  writing  a  story  you  can  let  the 
young  couple  take  the  chances,  and  you  can  give 
them  in  their  favour." 

"Well  — how,  exactly?"  asked  John.  "That 
sort  of  thing  isn't  usual,  I  fancy." 

"Not  usual  —  no."  The  lawyer  smiled.  "But 
there  are  more  secret  marriages  than  most  people 
dream  of.  If  your  hero  and  heroine  must  be  mar 
ried  in  New  York,  it  is  easy  enough  to  do  it.  No 
body  will  marry  them  without  afterwards  making 
out  the  certificate,  which  is  recorded.  If  anybody 
suspects  that  they  are  married,  it  is  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  find  out  that  the  marriage 
has  been  registered.  But  if  nobody  looks  for  it, 
the  thing  will  never  be  heard  of.  It's  a  thousand  to 
one  against  anybody's  finding  it  out  by  accident." 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  145 

"But  if  it  were  done  in  that  way  it  would  be 
absolutely  legal  and  could  never  be  contested?  " 

"Of  course  —  perfectly  legal.  But  it's  not  so  in 
all  States,  mind  you." 

"I  wanted  to  know  about  New  York,"  said 
Ealston.  "It  couldn't  possibly  take  place  any 
where  else." 

"  Oh  —  well  —  in  that  case,  you  know  all  there 
is  to  be  known." 

"I'm  very  grateful,"  said  John,  rising.  "I've 
taken  up  a  great  deal  of  your  valuable  time,  sir. 
May  I  —  " 

In  considerable  doubt  as  to  what  he  should  do, 
he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  breast-pocket  and 
looked  at  the  lawyer. 

"My  dear  sir!  "  exclaimed  the  latter,  rising  also. 
"How  can  you  think  of  such  a  thing?  I'm  very 
glad  indeed  to  have  been  of  service  to  —  a  young 
novelist." 

"You're  exceedingly  kind,  and  I  thank  you  very 
much,"  said  Ealston,  shaking  the  outstretched 
hand,  and  making  for  the  door  as  soon  as  possible. 

He  had  not  even  given  his  name,  which  had  been 
rather  rude  on  his  part,  as  he  was  well  aware.  At 
all  events,  the  lawyer  would  not  be  able  to  trace 
him,  which  was  a  point  to  his  advantage. 

Oddly  enough  he  felt  a  sense  of  satisfaction 
when  he  thought  over  what  he  had  learned.  He 
could  tell  Katharine  that  a  really  secret  marriage 


146  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

was  wholly  impossible,  and  perhaps  when  she 
knew  that  she  was  running  a  risk  of  discovery 
she  would  draw  back.  He  should  be  glad  of  that. 
Realizing  the  fact,  he  was  conscious  for  the  first 
time  that  lie  was  seeking  a  way  out  of  the  marriage 
and  not  a  way  into  it,  and  a  conflict  arose  in  his 
mind.  On  the  one  hand  he  had  given  Katharine 
his  word  that  he  would  do  what  she  asked,  and  his 
word  was  sacred,  unless  she  would  release  him 
from  the  promise.  On  the  other  side  stood  that 
intimate  conviction  of  his  own  that,  in  spite  of 
all  her  arguments,  it  was  not  a  perfectly  honour 
able  thing  to  do,  on  its  own  merits.  He  could  not 
help  feeling  glad  that  a  material  difficulty  stood 
in  the  way  of  his  doing  what  she  required  of  him. 

In  any  case  he  must  see  her  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  ascertained  without  difficulty  that  they  need 
not  show  evidence  that  they  had  resided  in  New 
York  during  any  particular  period,  nor  were  there 
any  other  formalities  to  be  fulfilled.  He  went 
home  to  luncheon  with  his  mother  —  it  was  on  the 
day  after  he  had  given  his  promise  to  Katharine,  for 
he  had  lost  no  time  —  and  he  went  out  again  before 
three  o'clock,  hoping  to  find  the  young  girl  alone. 

To  his  annoyance  he  found  her  with  her  mother 
in  the  library.  Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  generally  at 
work  at  that  hour,  if  she  was  at  home,  but  to-day 
she,  who  was  always  well,  had  a  headache  and  was 
nervous  and  altogether  different  from  herself. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      147 

Katharine  saw  that  she  was  almost  ill,  and  insisted 
upon  staying  at  home  with  her,  to  read  to  her,  or 
to  talk,  as  she  preferred,  though  Mrs.  Lauderdale 
begged  her  repeatedly  to  go  away  and  make  visits, 
or  otherwise  amuse  herself  as  she  could.  But  the 
young  girl  was  obstinate ;  she  saw  that  her  mother 
was  suffering  and  she  had  no  intention  of  leav 
ing  her  that  afternoon.  Alexander  Junior  was  of 
course  at  his  office,  and  the  philanthropist  was  in 
his  own  quarters  upstairs,  probably  dozing  before 
the  fire  or  writing  reports  about  idiots. 

It  was  clear  to  Kalston  in  five  minutes  that  Mrs. 
Lauderdale  was  not  only  indisposed,  but  that  she 
was  altogether  out  of  temper,  a  state  of  mind  very 
unusual  with  her.  She  found  fault  with  little  things 
that  Katharine  did  in  a  way  John  had  never 
noticed  before,  and  as  for  himself,  she  evidently 
wished  he  had  not  come.  There  was  a  petulance 
about  her  which  was  quite  new.  She  was  not  even 
sitting  in  her  usual  place,  bat  had  taken  the  deep 
arm-chair  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  and 
turned  her  back  to  the  light. 

"  You  seem  to  be  as  busy  as  usual,  Jack, "  she 
observed,  after  exchanging  a  few  words. 

" I'm  wishing  I  were,  at  all  events,"  he  answered. 
"You  must  take  the  wish  for  the  deed." 

"They  say  that  there's  always  plenty  of  work 
for  any  one  who  wants  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Lauder 
dale,  coldly. 


148  KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE. 

"If  you'll  tell  me  where  to  find  it  —  " 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  the  West,  as  young  Bright 
did,  and  try  to  do  something  without  help?  Other 
men  do." 

"  Bright  took  money  with  him, "  answered  Rals 
ton. 

"  Did  he?  Not  much,  then,  I  fancy.  I  know  he 
lived  a  hard  life  and  drove  cattle  —  " 

"And  bought  land  in  wild  places  which  he 
found  in  the  course  of  his  cattle  driving.  The 
driving  was  a 'means  of  getting  about  —  not  un 
pleasant,  either  —  and  he  had  some  money  to  in 
vest.  I  could  do  the  same,  if  I  had  any." 

"You  know  it's  quite  useless,  mother,"  said 
Katharine,  interposing  before  Mrs.  Lauderdale 
could  make  another  retort.  "You  all  abuse  him 
for  doing  nothing,  and  yet  I  hear  you  all  say  that 
every  profession  is  overcrowded,  and  that  nobody 
can  do  anything  without  capital.  If  uncle  Robert 
chose,  he  could  make  Jack's  fortune  by  a  turn  of 
his  hand." 

"  Of  course  —  he  could  give  him  a  fortune  out 
right  and  not  feel  it  —  unless  he  cared  what  became 
of  it." 

There  was  something  so  harsh  about  the  way  in 
which  she  spoke  the  last  words  that  Ralston  and 
Katharine  looked  at  each  other.  Ralston  did  not 
lose  his  temper,  however,  but  tried  to  turn  the 
subject  with  a  laugh. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  149 

"My  dear  cousin  Emma/'  he  said,  "  I'm  the  most 
hopeless  case  living.  Please  talk  about  some 
body  who  is  successful.  There  are  lots  of  them. 
You've  mentioned  Bright  already.  Let  us  praise 
him.  That  will  make  you  feel  better." 

To  this  Mrs.  Lauderdale  said  nothing.  After 
waiting  a  moment  Ealston  turned  to  Katharine. 

"Are  you  going  out  this  afternoon?"  he  asked, 
by  way  of  hinting  that  he  wanted  to  see  her  alone. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  answering  for  her. 
"  She  says  she  means  to  stay  at  home  and  take  care 
of  me.  It's  ever  so  good  of  her,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Ealston,  absently. 

It  struck  Katharine  that,  considering  that  her 
mother  had  been  trying  for  half  an  hour  to  per 
suade  her  to  go  oat,  it  would  have  been  natural 
to  propose  that  she  should  go  for  a  short  walk 
with  John,  and  that  the  answer  had  come  rather 
suddenly. 

"But  you  can't  stay  at  home  all  day,"  said  Eals 
ton,  all  at  once.  "You'll  be  having  a  headache 
yourself.  Won't  you  let  Katharine  come  with  me 
for  half  an  hour,  cousin  Emma?  We'll  walk 
twice  round  Washington  Square  and  come  right 
back.  She  looks  pale." 

"Does  she?"  Mrs.  Lauderdale  glanced  at  the 
girl's  face.  "I  don't  think  so,"  she  continued. 
"Besides  —  " 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Ealston,  as  she  hesitated 


150  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  stopped.  "Isn't  it  proper?  We've  often 
done  it." 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  rose  from  her  chair  and  stood 
up,  tall  and  slim,  with  her  back  to  the  mantel 
piece.  The  light  fell  upon  her  face  now,  and 
Ralston  saw  how  tired  and  worn  she  looked.  Im 
mediately  she  turned  her  back  to  the  window 
again,  and  looked  at  him  sideways,  resting  her 
elbow  on  the  shelf. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  you  two  going  on  in  this 
way?"  she  asked  suddenly. 

There  was  an  awkward  silence,  and  again  Katha 
rine  and  Ralston  looked  at  one  another.  They 
were  momentarily  surprised  out  of  speech,  for 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  always  taken  their  side,  if 
not  very  actively,  at  least  in  a  kindly  way.  She 
had  said  that  Katharine  should  marry  the  man  she 
loved,  rich  or  poor,  and  that  if  she  chose  to  wait 
for  a  poor  man,  like  Ralston,  to  be  able  to  support 
her,  that  was  her  own  affair.  The  violent  opposi 
tion  had  come  from  Katharine's  father  when,  a 
year  previously,  the  two  had  boldly  told  him  that 
they  loved  each  other  and  wished  to  be  married. 
Alexander  Junior  did  not  often  lose  his  temper, 
but  he  had  lost  it  completely  on  that  occasion,  and 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  Ralston  should  never 
enter  the  house  again,  a  verdict  which  he  had  been 
soon  forced  to  modify.  But  he  had  said  that  he 
considered  John  an  idle  good-for-nothing,  who 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  151 

would  never  be  able  to  support  himself,  let  alone 
a  wife  and  children;  that  his,  Alexander's,  daughter 
should  never  marry  a  professional  dandy,  who  was 
content  to  let  his  widowed  mother  pay  his  extrava 
gant  tailor's  bills,  and  who  played  poker  at  the  clubs 
as  a  source  of  income ;  that  it  was  not  enough  of  a 
recommendation  to  be  half  a  Lauderdale  and  to 
skim  the  cream  from  New  York  society  in  the  form 
of  daily  invitations  —  and  to  have  the  reputation 
of  being  a  good  polo  player  with  other  people's 
horses,  a  good  yachtsman  with  other  people's 
yachts,  and  of  having  a  strong  head  for  other  peo 
ple's  wines.  Those  were  not  the  noble  qualities 
Alexander  Junior  looked  for  in  a  son-in-law. 
Not  at  all,  sir.  He  preferred  Benjamin  Slayback 
of  Nevada.  The  Lauderdales  were  quite  able  to 
make  society  accept  Benjamin  Slayback  of  Nevada, 
because  Benjamin  Slayback  of  Nevada  was  quite 
able  to  stand  upon  his  own  feet  anywhere,  having 
worked  for  all  he  had,  like  a  man,  and  having 
pushed  himself  into  the  forefront  of  political  life 
by  sheer  energy  and  ability,  and  having  as  good  a 
right  and  as  good  a  chance  in  every  way  as  any 
man  in  the  country.  No,  he  was  certainly  not  a 
Lauderdale.  If  Lauderdales  were  to  go  on  marry 
ing  Lauderdales  and  no  one  else,  there  would  soon 
be  an  end  of  society.  He  advised  John  Kalston 
to  go  to  Nevada  and  marry  Benjamin  Slayback' s 
sister,  if  she  would  look  at  him,  which  was  more 


152      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

than  doubtful,  considering  that  he  was  the  most 
atrociously  idle  young  ne'er-do-weel  —  here  Alex 
ander's  Scotch  upper  lip  snapped  like  a  steel  trap 
—  that  ever  wasted  the  most  precious  years  of  life 
between  the  society  of  infatuated  women  by  day, 
sir,  and  the  temptations  of  the  card-table  and  the 
bottle  by  night  —  the  favourite  of  fine  ladies,  the 
boon  companion  of  roisterers  and  the  sport  of  a 
London  tailor. 

"Which  was  a  tremendous  speech  when  delivered 
at  close  quarters  in  Alexander  Junior's  metallic 
voice,  and  in  his  most  irately  emphatic  manner, 
while  the  grey  veins  swelled  at  his  grey  temples, 
and  one  iron  hand  was  clenched  ready  to  strike  the 
palm  of  the  other  when  the  end  of  the  peroration 
was  reached.  He  allowed  himself,  as  a  relation, 
even  more  latitude  in  his  language  than  he  would 
have  arrogated  to  himself  as  Katharine's  father. 
He  met  John  Ralston  not  only  as  the  angry  stage 
father  meets  the  ineligible  and  determined  young 
suitor,  but  as  one  Lauderdale  meeting  another  — 
the  one  knowing  himself  to  be  irreproachable, 
upbraiding  the  other  as  the  disgrace  of  the  family, 
the  hardened  young  sinner,  and  the  sport  of  his 
tailor.  That  last  expression  had  almost  brought  a 
smile  to  Ralston 's  angry  face. 

He  had  behaved  admirably,  however,  under  such 
very  trying  circumstances,  and  afterwards  secretly 
took  great  credit  to  himself  for  not  having  attacked 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  153 

him  whom  he  wished  for  a  father-in-law  with  the 
furniture  of  the  latter 's  own  library,  the  chairs 
being  the  only  convenient  weapons  in  the  room. 
Alexander  the  Safe,  as  his  own  daughter  called 
him,  could  probably  have  killed  John  Ralston 
with  one  back-hander,  but  John  would  have 
liked  to  try  him  in  fight,  nevertheless.  Instead  of 
doing  anything  of  the  kind,  however,  John  drew 
back  two  steps,  and  said  as  much  as  he  could  trust 
himself  to  say  without  foaming  at  the  mouth  and 
seeing  things  in  scarlet.  He  said  that  he  did  not 
agree  with  his  cousin  Alexander  upon  all  the 
points  the  latter  had  mentioned,  that  he  did  not  care 
to  prolong  a  violent  scene,  and  he  wished  him 
good  morning.  Thereupon  he  had  left  the  house, 
which  was  quite  the  wisest  thing  he  could  do,  for 
when  Alexander  was  alone  he  found  to  his  extreme 
annoyance  that  he  had  a  distinct  sensation  of  hav 
ing  been  made  almost  ridiculous.  But  he  soon 
recovered  from  that,  for  whatever  the  secret  main 
spring  of  his  singular  character  might  be,  it  was 
certainly  not  idle  vanity. 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  consoled  Katharine,  and 
Ralston  too,  for  that  matter,  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  with  sincere  sympathy.  Ralston  continued  to 
come  to  the  house  very  much  as  he  pleased,  and 
Mr.  Lauderdale  silently  tolerated  his  presence  on 
the  rare  occasions  of  their  meeting.  He  had  cer 
tainly  said  more  than  enough  to  explain  his  point 


154      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

of  view,  and  he  considered  the  matter  as  settled. 
It  was  really  not  possible  to  keep  a  man  who  was 
his  cousin  altogether  away,  and  he  suffered  also 
from  a  delusion  common  to  many  fathers,  which 
led  him  to  think  that  no  one  would  ever  dare  to 
act  against  his  once  clearly  expressed  wishes. 

Between  Katharine  and  her  mother  and  Ralston 
there  remained  a  sort  of  tacit  understanding. 
There  was  no  formal  engagement,  of  course,  which 
would  have  had  to  be  concealed  from  Mr.  Lauder- 
dale,  but  Mrs.  Lauderdale  meant  that  the  two 
young  people  should  be  married  if  they  continued 
to  love  one  another,  and  she  generally  left  them  as 
much  together  as  they  pleased  when  Ralston  came. 

It  was,  therefore,  not  strange  that  they  should 
both  be  surprised  by  the  nature  of  her  sudden 
question  as  she  stood  by  the  fireplace  looking  side 
ways  at  Ralston,  with  her  back  to  the  light. 

"What  is  the  use?"  asked  Katharine,  repeating 
the  words  in  astonishment  and  emphasizing  the 
last  one. 

"  Yes.  What  is  the  use?  It  is  leading  to  noth 
ing.  You  never  can  be  married,  and  you  know  it 
by  this  time.  You  had  much  better  separate  at 
once.  It  will  be  easier  for  you  now,  perhaps,  than 
by  and  by.  You  are  both  so  young!  " 

"Excuse  me,  cousin  Emma,"  said  Ralston,  "but 
I  think  you  must  be  dreaming." 

He  spoke  very  quietly,  but  the  light  was  begin- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  155 

ning  to  gleam  in  his  eyes.  His  mother  was  said  to 
have  a  very  bad  temper,  and  John  was  like  her 
in  many  respects.  But  Mrs.  Lauderdale  continued 
to  speak  quite  calmly. 

"I  have  been  thinking  about  you  two  a  great 
deal  lately,"  she  said.  "I  have  made  a  mistake, 
and  I  may  as  well  say  so  at  once,  now  that  I  have 
discovered  it.  You  wouldn't  like  me  to  go  on 
letting  you  think  that  I  approved  of  your  engage 
ment,  when  I  don't  —  would  you?  That  wouldn't 
be  fair  or  honest." 

"Certainly  not,"  answered  Kalston,  in  a  low 
voice,  and  he  could  feel  all  his  muscles  tightening 
as  though  for  a  physical  effort.  "  Have  you  said 
this  sort  of  thing  to  Katharine  before,  or  is  this 
the  first  time  ?  " 

"No,  she  hasn't  said  a  word,"  replied  Katharine 
herself. 

The  girl  was  standing  by  the  easy  chair,  her 
hand  resting  on  the  back  of  it,  her  face  pale,  her 
great  grey  eyes  staring  wide  open  at  her  mother's 
profile. 

"No,  I  have  not,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale.  "I 
thought  it  best  to  wait  until  I  could  speak  to  you 
together.  It's  useless  to  give  pain  twice  over." 

"It  is  indeed,"  said  Ralston,  gravely.  "Please 
go  on." 

"Why  —  there's  nothing  more  to  be  said,  Jack," 
answered  Mrs.  Lauderdale.  "That's  all.  The 


156  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

trouble  is  that  you'll  never  do  anything,  and  you 
have  no  fortune,  nor  any  prospect  of  any  —  until 
your  mother  —  " 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  my  mother  in  that  con 
nection,"  interrupted  Ralston,  his  lips  growing 
white. 

"  Well  —  and  as  for  us,  we're  as  poor  as  can  be. 
You  see  how  we  live.  Besides,  you  know.  Old 
Mr.  Lauderdale  gets  uncle  Robert  to  subscribe 
thousands  and  thousands  for  the  idiots,  but  he  never 
suggests  that  they  are  far  better  off  than  we  are. 
However,  those  are  our  miseries  and  not  yours. 
Yours  is  that  you  are  perfectly  useless  — 

"Mother!"  cried  Katharine,  losing  control  of 
herself  and  moving  a  step  forward. 

"It's  all  right,  dear,"  said  Ralston.  "Go  on, 
cousin  Emma.  I'm  perfectly  useless  — 

"  I  don't  mean  to  offend  you,  Jack,  and  we're  not 
strangers,"  continued  Mrs.  Lauderdale,  "and  I 
won't  dwell  on  the  facts.  You  know  them  as  well 
as  I  do,  and  are  probably  quite  as  sorry  that  they 
really  are  facts.  I  will  only  ask  one  question. 
What  chance  is  there  that  in  the  next  four  or 
five  years  you  can  have  a  house  of  your  own,  and 
an  income  of  your  own  —  just  enough  for  two  peo 
ple  to  live  on  and  no  more  —  and  —  well  —  a  home 
for  Katharine?  What  chance  is  there?  " 

"I'll  do  something  before  that  time,"  answered 
Ralston,  with  a  determined  look. 


KATHARINE  LA  U  DEB  DALE.  157 

But  Mrs.  Lauderdale  shook  her  head. 

"So  you  said  last  year,  Jack.  I  repeat  —  I 
don't  want  to  be  unkind.  How  long  is  Katharine 
to  wait?" 

"I'll  wait  all  my  life,  mother,"  said  the  young 
girl,  suddenly  speaking  out  in  ringing  tones.  "I'll 
wait  till  I  die,  if  I  must,  and  Jack  knows  it.  And 
I  believe  in  him,  if  you  don't  —  against  you  all, 
you  and  papa  and  uncle  Robert  and  every  one. 
Jack  has  never  had  a  chance  that  deserves  to  be 
called  a  chance  at  all.  He  must  succeed  —  he 
shall  succeed  —  I  know  he'll  succeed.  And  I'll  wait 
till  he  does.  I  will  —  I  will  —  if  it's  forever,  and 
I  shan't  be  tired  of  waiting — it  will  always  be 
easy,  for  him.  Oh,  mother,  mother  —  to  think  that 
you  should  have  turned  against  us!  That's  the 
hard  thing !  " 

"Thank  you,  dear,"  said  Ealston,  touching  her 
hand  lovingly. 

Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  turned  her  face  quite  away 
from  him  now  and  was  looking  at  the  clock,  softly 
drumming  with  her  fingers  upon  the  mantelpiece. 

"I'm  sorry,  Katharine,"  she  said.  "But  I 
think  it,  and  I've  said  it  —  and  I  can't  unsay  it. 
It's  far  too  true." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  several  seconds. 
Then  Katharine  suddenly  pushed  E-alston  gently 
toward  the  door. 

"Go,    Jack   dear,"    she    said   in    a    low    voice. 


158  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"She  has  a  dreadful  headache  —  she's  not  herself. 
Your  being  here  irritates  her  —  please  go  away  — 
it  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two  —  " 

They  had  reached  the  door,  for  Kalston  saw  that 
she  was  right. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Lauderdale  from  the  fireplace, 
"I  shan't  change  my  mind." 

It  was  all  so  sudden  and  strange  that  Ralston 
found  himself  outside  the  library  without  having 
taken  leave  of  her  in  any  way.  Katharine  came 
out  with  him. 

"There's  a  difficulty,"  he  whispered  quickly  as 
lie  found  his  coat  and  stick.  "After  it's  done 
there  has  to  be  a  certificate  saying  that  —  " 

"  Katharine !  Come  here !  "  cried  Mrs.  Lauder 
dale  from  within,  and  they  heard  her  footstep  as 
she  left  the  fireplace. 

"Come  to-morrow  morning  at  eleven,"  whispered 
Katharine. 

She  barely  touched  his  hand  with  hers  and  fled 
back  into  the  library.  He  let  himself  out  and 
walked  slowly  along  Clinton  Place  in  the  direction 
of  Fifth  Avenue. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

KATHARINE  went  back  to  the  library  mechani 
cally,  because  Mrs.  Lauderdale  called  her  and  be 
cause  she  heard  the  latter's  step  upon  the  floor,  but 
not  exactly  in  mere  blind  submission  and  obedience. 
She  was,  indeed,  so  much  surprised  by  what  had 
taken  place  that  she  was  not  altogether  her  usual 
self,  and  she  was  conscious  that  events  moved  more 
quickly  just  then  than  her  own  power  of  decision. 
She  was  observant  and  perceptive,  but  her  reason 
had  always  worked  slowly.  Ralston,  at  least,  was 
out  of  the  way,  and  she  was  glad  that  she  had 
made  him  go.  It  had  been  unbearable  to  hear 
her  mother  attacking  him  as  she  had  done. 

She  believed  that  Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  about  to 
be  seriously  ill.  No  other  theory  could  account 
for  her  extraordinary  behaviour.  It  was  therefore 
wisest  to  take  away  what  irritated  her  and  to  be  as 
patient  as  possible.  There  was  no  excuse  for  her 
sudden  change  of  opinion,  and  as  soon  as  she  was 
quite  well  she  would  be  sorry  for  what  she  had 
said.  Katharine  was  not  more  patient  than  most 
people,  but  she  did  her  best. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter,  mother  ?  You  called 
159 


160  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

so  loud."  She  spoke  almost  before  she  had  shut 
the  door  behind  her. 

"  No.  Did  I  ?  I  wanted  him  to  go  away,  that 
was  all.  Why  should  he  stand  there  talking  to 
you  in  whispers  ?  " 

Katharine  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  her  broad 
eyebrows  drew  slowly  together  and  her  eyelids 
contracted.  She  sat  down  and  clasped  her  hands 
together  upon  her  knee. 

"  Because  he  had  something  to  say  to  me  which 
he  did  not  wish  you  to  hear,  mother,"  she  answered 
at  last. 

"Ah  —  I  thought  so."  Mrs.  Lauderdale  relapsed 
into  silence,  and  from  time  to  time  her  mouth 
twitched  nervously. 

She  glanced  at  her  daughter  once  or  twice.  The 
young  girl's  straight  features  could  look  almost 
stolid  at  times.  Her  patience  had  given  way  once, 
but  she  got  hold  of  it  again  and  tried  to  set  it 
on  her  face  like  a  mask.  She  was  thinking  now 
and  wondering  whether  this  strange  mood  were  a 
mere  caprice  of  her  mother's,  though  Mrs.  Lander- 
dale  had  never  been  capricious  before,  or  whether 
something  had  happened  to  change  her  opinion  of 
Ralston  suddenly  but  permanently.  In  the  one 
case  it  would  be  best  to  bear  it  as  quietly  as  possi 
ble,  in  the  other  to  declare  war  at  once.  But  that 
seemed  impossible,  when  she  tried  to  realize  it. 
She  was  deeply,  sincerely  devoted  to  her  mother. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  161 

Hitherto  they  had  each  understood  the  other's 
thoughts  and  feelings  almost  without  words,  and 
in  all  the  many  little  domestic  difficulties  they  had 
been  firm  allies.  It  was  not  possible  that  they 
were  to  quarrel  now.  The  gap  in  life  would  be 
too  deep  and  broad.  Katharine  suddenly  rose  and 
came  and  sat  beside  her  mother  and  drew  the  fair, 
tired  face  to  her  own,  very  tenderly. 

"Mother  dear,"  she  said,  "look  at  me!  What 
is  the  matter  ?  Have  I  done  anything  to  hurt  you 
—  to  displease  you  ?  We've  always  loved  each 
other,  you  and  I  —  and  we  can't  really  quarrel,  can 
we?  What  is  it,  dearest?  Tell  me  everything  — 
I  can't  understand  it  at  all  —  I  know  —  you're 
tired  and  ill,  and  Jack  irritated  you.  Men  will, 
sometimes,  even  the  very  nicest  men,  you  know. 
It  was  only  that,  wasn't  it  ?  Yes  —  I  knew  it  was 
—  poor,  dear,  darling,  sweet,  tired  little  mother, 
just  let  your  dear  head  rest — so,  against  me  —  yes, 
dear,  I  know  —  it  was  nothing — " 

It  was  as  though  they  had  changed  places,  the 
mother  and  the  daughter.  The  older  woman's  lip 
quivered,  as  her  cheek  rested  on  Katharine's  breast. 
Slowly,  almost  imperceptibly,  two  tears  gathered 
just  within  the  shadowed  lids,  and  grew  and  over 
flowed  and  trembled  and  fell— two  crystal  drops. 
She  saw  them  fall  upon  the  rough  grey  stuff  of 
her  daughter's  frock,  and  as  she  lay  there  upon  the 
girl's  bosom  with  downcast  eyes,  she  watched  her 


162  KATIIARIXE  LAUDERDALE. 

own  tears,  in  momentary  apathy,  and  noticed  how 
they  ran,  then  crawled  along,  then  stopped,  caught 
as  it  seemed  in  the  stiff  little  hairs  of  the  coarse 
material  —  and  she  noticed  that  there  were  a  few 
black  hairs  mixed  with  the  grey,  which  she  had 
not  known  before. 

Then  quite  suddenly,  just  as  they  were  shrinking 
and  darkening  the  wool  with  two  small  spots,  a 
great  irresistible  sob  seemed  to  come  from  outside 
and  run  through  her  from  head  to  foot,  and  shook 
her  and  hurt  her  and  gripped  her  throat.  A  mo 
ment  more  and  the  flood  of  tears  broke.  Those 
storms  of  life's  autumn  are  chill  and  sharp.  They 
are  not  like  the  showers  of  spring,  quick,  light  and 
soft,  that  make  blossoms  fragrant  and  woods  sweet- 
scented. 

Katharine  did  not  understand,  and  her  face  was 
gentle  and  full  of  pain  as  she  pressed  her  mother 
to  her  bosom. 

"Don't  cry,  mother  —  don't  cry!"  she  repeated 
again  and  again. 

"Ah,  Katharine  — child  — if  you  knew!"  The 
few  words  came  with  difficulty,  as  each  sob  rose 
and  would  not  be  forced  back. 

"  No,  darling — don't !  There,  there  ! "  And  the 
young  girl  tried  to  soothe  her. 

Suddenly  it  all  ceased.  With  an  impatient  move 
ment,  as  though  she  despised  herself,  Mrs.  Lauder- 
dale  drew  back,  steadied  herself  with  one  hand 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  163 

upon  the  end  of  the  sofa,  turned  her  head  away 
and  rose  to  her  feet. 

"Go  out,  child — leave  me  to  myself!"  she  said 
indistinctly,  and  going  quickly  towards  the  door. 
"Don't  come  after  me  —  don't  —  no,  don't,"  she 
repeated,  not  looking  back,  as  she  went  out. 

Left  to  herself,  and  understanding  that  it  was 
better  not  to  follow,  Katharine  stood  still  a  moment 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  then  went  to  the  win 
dow  and  looked  out,  seeing  nothing.  She  did  not 
know  what  it  all  meant,  but  she  felt  that  some 
great  change  which  she  could  not  comprehend  had 
come  over  her  mother,  and  that  they  could  never 
be  again  as  they  had  been.  A  mere  headache,  the 
mere  fatigue  from  overwork,  could  not  have  pro 
duced  such  results.  Nor  was  Mrs.  Lauderdale 
really  ill,  as  the  girl's  womanly  instinct  had  told 
her  within  the  last  five  minutes.  The  trouble, 
whatever  it  might  be,  was  mental,  and  the  tears 
had  given  it  a  momentary  relief.  But  it  was  not 
over. 

Katharine  went  out,  at  last,  and  was  glad  to 
breathe  the  keen  air  of  the  wintry  afternoon  ;  glad, 
too,  to  be  alone  with  herself.  She  even  wished 
that  she  were  not  obliged  to  go  into  Fifth  Avenue, 
where  she  might  meet  an  acquaintance,  or  at  all 
events  to  cross  it,  as  she  decided  to  do  when  she 
reached  the  first  corner.  Going  straight  on,  the 
next  street  was  University  Place,  and  the  lower 


164      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

part  of  that  was  quiet,  and  Waverley  Place  and  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  old  University  building  itself. 
She  could  wander  about  there  for  half  an  hour  with 
out  going  so  far  as  Broadway,  nor  southwards  to  the 
precincts  of  the  French  and  Italian  business  colo 
nies.  So  she  walked  slowly  on,  and  then  turned,  and 
turned  again,  round  and  round,  backwards  and 
forwards,  meeting  no  one  she  knew,  thinking  all  the 
time  and  idly  noticing  things  that  had  never  struck 
her  before,  as,  for  instance,  that  there  is  a  row  of 
stables  leading  westward  out  of  University  Place 
which  is  called  Washington  Mews,  and  that  at 
almost  every  corner  where  there  is  a  liquor-shop 
there  seems  to  be  an  Italian  fruit-stand — the 
function  of  the  'dago'  being  to  give  warning  of 
the  approach  of  the  police,  in  certain  cases,  a  fact 
which  Katharine  could  not  be  expected  to  know. 

Just  beyond  the  aforesaid  Mews,  at  the  corner 
of  Washington  Square,  she  came  suddenly  upon 
little  Frank  Miner,  his  overcoat  buttoned  up  to 
his  chin  and  a  roll  of  papers  sticking  out  of  his 
pocket.  His  fresh  face  was  pink  with  the  cold, 
his  small  dark  mustache  glistened,  and  his  restless 
eyes  were  bright.  The  two  almost  ran  against  one 
another  and  both  stopped.  He  raised  his  hat  with 
a  quick  smile  and  put  out  his  hand. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Lauderdale  ?  "  he  asked. 

In  spite  of  the  family  connection  he  had  never 
got  so  far  as  to  call  her  Katharine,  or  even  cousin 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  165 

Katharine.  The  young  girl  shook  hands  with  him 
and  smiled. 

"  Are  you  out  for  a  walk  ?  "  he  asked,  before  she 
had  been  able  to  speak.  "  And  if  so,  may  I  come 
too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  —  do." 

She  had  been  alone  long  enough  to  find  it  impos 
sible  to  reach  any  conclusion,  and  of  all  people 
except  Ealston,  Miner  was  the  one  she  felt  most 
able  to  tolerate  just  then.  His  perfectly  simple 
belief  in  himself  and  his  healthy  good  humour 
made  him  good  company  for  a  depressed  person. 

"You  seemed  to  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  said 
Katharine,  as  he  began  to  walk  slowly  by  her  side. 

"Of  course,  as  I  was  coming  to  meet  you,"  he 
answered  promptly. 

"  But  you  didn't  know  —  " 

"Providence  knew,"  he  said,  interrupting  her. 
"It  was  foreordained  when  the  world  was  chaos 
and  New  York  was  inhabited  by  protoplasm  —  and 
all  that  —  that  you  and  I  should  meet  just  here,  at 
this  very  minute.  Aren't  you  a  fatalist?  I  am. 
It's  far  the  best  belief." 

"Is  it?  Why?'  I  should  think  it  rather  de 
pressing." 

"  Why  —  no.  You  believe  that  you're  the  sport 
of  destiny.  Now  a  sport  implies  amusement  of 
some  kind.  See  ?  " 

"  Is  the  football  amused  when  it's  kicked  ?  "  asked 
Katharine,  with  a  short  laugh. 


166  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"Now  please  don't  introduce  football,  Miss  Lau- 
derdale,"  said  Miner,  without  hesitation.  "  I  don't 
understand  anything  about  it,  and  I  know  that  I 
should,  because  it's  a  mania  just  now.  All  the 
men  get  it  when  the  winter  comes  on,  and  they 
sit  up  half  the  night  at  the  club,  drawing  diagrams 
and  talking  Hebrew,  and  getting  excited  —  I've 
seen  them  positively  sitting  up  on  their  hind-legs 
in  rows,  and  waving  their  paws  and  tearing  their 
hair  —  just  arguing  about  the  points  of  a  game 
half  of  them  never  played  at  all." 

"  What  a  picture  !  "  laughed  Katharine. 

"Isn't  it?  But  it's  just  true.  I'm  going  to 
write  a  book  about  it  and  call  it  '  The  Kicker 
Kicked' — you  know,  like  Sartor  Resartus —  all 
full  of  philosophy  and  things.  Can  you  say  'Kicker 
Kicked '  twenty  times  very  fast,  Miss  Lauderdale  ? 
I  believe  it's  impossible.  I  just  left  my  three  sis 
ters — they're  slowly  but  firmly  turning  into  aunts, 
you  know  —  I  left  them  all  trying  to  say  it  as 
hard  as  they  could,  and  the  whole  place  clicked  as 
though  a  thousand  policemen's  rattles  were  all 
going  at  once  —  hard  !  And  they  were  all  showing 
their  teeth  and  going  mad  over  it." 

"  I  should  think  so  —  and  that's  another  picture." 

"  By  the  bye,  speaking  of  pictures,  have  you  seen 
the  Loan  Collection  ?  It's  full  of  portraits  of  chil 
dren  with  such  extraordinary  expressions  —  they 
all  look  as  though  they  had  given  up  trying  to  edu- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  167 

cate  their  parents  in  despair.  I  wonder  why  every 
body  paints  children?  Nobody  can.  I  believe  it 
would  take  a  child  —  who  knew  how  to  paint,  of 
course,  —  to  paint  a  child,  and  give  just  that  some 
thing  which  real  children  have  —  just  what  makes 
them  children." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  following  the  unex 
pected  train  of  thoughts.  There  were  delicate 
sides  to  his  nature  that  pleased  Katharine  as  well 
as  his  nonsense. 

"  That's  a  pretty  idea,"  she  said,  after  thinking 
of  it  a  few  seconds. 

"Everybody  tries  and  fails,"  answered  Miner. 
"  Why  doesn't  somebody  paint  you  ? "  he  asked 
suddenly,  looking  at  her. 

"  Somebody  means  to,"  she  replied.  "  I  was  to 
have  gone  to  sit  to  Mr.  Crowdie  this  morning,  but 
he  sent  me  word  to  come  to-morrow  instead.  I 
suppose  he  had  forgotten  another  engagement." 

"Crowdie  is  ill,"  said  Miner.  "Bright  told  me 
so  this  morning  —  some  queer  attack  that  nobody 
could  understand." 

"  Something  serious  ?  "  asked  Katharine,  quickly. 

"Oh,  no  —  I  suppose  not.  Let's  go  and  see. 
He  lives  close  by  —  at  least,  not  far,  you  know, 
over  in  Lafayette  Place.  It  won't  take  five  min 
utes  to  go  across.  Would  you  like  to  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  young  girl.  "  I  could  ask 
if  he  will  be  able  to  begin  the  picture  to-morrow." 


168  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

They  turned  to  the  right  at  the  next  crossing 
and  reached  Broadway  a  few  moments  later.  There 
was  the  usual  crowd  of  traffic  in  the  great  thorough 
fare,  and  they  had  to  wait  a  moment  at  the  cross 
ing  before  attempting  it.  Miner  thought  of  what 
he  had  seen  on  the  previous  afternoon. 

"Did  you  hear  of  Jack  Ralston's  accident  yes 
terday  ?  "  he  asked. 

Katharine  started  violently  and  turned  pale. 
She  had  not  realized  how  the  long  hours  and  the 
final  scene  with  her  mother  had  unstrung  her 
nerves.  But  Miner  was  watching  the  cars  and 
carts  for  an  opening,  and  did  not  see  her. 

"  Yesterday  ? "  she  repeated,  a  moment  later. 
"No  —  he  came  to  see  us  and  stayed  almost  till 
dinner  time.  What  was  it?  When  did  it  happen? 
Was  he  hurt?" 

"  Oh  —  you  saw  him  afterwards,  then  ?  "  Miner 
looked  up  into  her  face  —  she  was  taller  than  he 
-  with  a  curious  expression  —  recollecting  Rals 
ton's  condition  when  he  had  last  seen  him. 

"  It  wasn't  serious,  then  ?  It  had  happened  be 
fore  he  came  to  our  house  ?  " 

"Why  —  yes,"  answered  the  little  man,  with  a 
puzzled  expression.  "  Was  he  all  right  when  you 
saw  him?" 

"  Perfectly.  He  never  said  anything  about  any 
accident.  He  looked  just  as  he  always  does." 

"That   fellow   has   copper   springs    and    patent 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  169 

joints  inside  him  ! "  Miner  laughed.  "  He  was  a 
good  deal  shaken,  that's  all,  and  went  home  in  a 
cab.  I  should  have  gone  to  bed,  myself." 

"  But  what  was  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  what  he'd  call  nothing,  I  suppose  !  The 
cars  at  the  corner  of  Thirty-second  and  Broadway 

—  we   were   waiting,   just   as   we   are   now  —  two 
cars  were  coming  in  opposite  ways,  and  a  boy  with 
a  bundle   and  a  dog  and   a  perambulator,   and  a 
few   other   things,    got    between    the    tracks  —  of 
course  the  cars  would  have  taken  off  his  head  or 
his  heels  or  his  bundle,  or  something,  and  the  dog 
would  have  been  ready  for  his  halo  in  three  sec 
onds.      Jack   jumped   and    picked   up   everything 
together  and  threw  them  before  him  and  fell  on 
his   head.     Wonder   he  wasn't  killed  or  crippled 

—  or  both  —  no,   I   mean  —  here's   a  chance,  Miss 
Lauderdale  —  come   along   before   that   van   stops 
the  way ! " 

There  was  not  time  to  say  anything  as  Katha 
rine  hastened  across  the  broad  street  by  his  side, 
and  by  the  time  they  had  reached  the  pavement 
the  blood  had  come  back  to  her  face.  Her  fears 
for  Ralston' s  safety  had  been  short-lived,  thanks  to 
Miner's  quick  way  of  telling  the  story,  and  in  their 
place  came  the  glow  of  pride  a  woman  feels  when 
the  man  she  loves  is  praised  by  men  for  a  brave 
action.  Miner  glanced  at  her  as  he  landed  her 
safely  from  the  crossing  and  wondered  whether 


170  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Crowdie's  portrait  would  do  her  justice.  He  doubted 
it,  just  then. 

"  It  was  just  like  him,"  she  said  quietly. 

"And  I  suppose  it  was  like  him  to  say  nothing 
about  it,  but  just  to  go  home  and  restore  his  shat 
tered  exterior  and  put  on  another  pair  of  boots  and 
go  and  see  you.  You  said  he  looked  as  though 
nothing  had  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"  Quite.  We  had  a  long  talk  together.  I  should 
certainly  not  have  guessed  that  anything  had  gone 
wrong." 

"Ralston's  an  unusual  sort  of  fellow,  anyhow," 
said  Miner,  enigmatically.  "  But  then  —  so  am  I, 
so  is  Crowdie  —  do  you  like  Crowdie  ?  Rude  ques 
tion,  isn't  it  ?  Well,  I  won't  ask  it,  then.  Besides, 
if  he's  to  paint  your  picture  you  must  have  a  pleas 
ant  expression —  a  smile  that  goes  all  round  your 
head  and  is  tied  with  a  black  ribbon  behind  —  you 
know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  Katharine  laughed  again,  as  she 
generally  did  at  the  little  man's  absurd  sayings. 

"But  Crowdie  knows,"  he  continued.  "He's 
clever  —  oh,  to  any  extent  —  big  things  and  little 
things.  All  his  lions  roar  and  all  his  mosquitoes 
buzz,  just  like  real  things.  The  only  thing  he  can't 
do  is  to  paint  children,  and  nobody  can  do  that. 
By  the  bye,  I'm  repeating  myself.  It  doesn't  take 
long  to  get  all  round  a  little  man  like  me.  There 
are  lots  of  things  about  Crowdie,  though.  He  sings 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  171 

like  an  angel.  I  never  heard  such  a  voice.  It's 
more  like  a  contralto  —  like  Scalchi's  as  it  was, 
though  she's  good  still,  —  than  like  a  tenor.  Oh, 
he's  full  of  talent.  I  wish  he  weren't  so  queer  !  " 

"  Queer  ?     How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  There's  something  dif 
ferent  from  other  people.  Is  he  a  friend  of  yours  ? 
I  mean,  a  great  friend  ?  " 

"Oh,  no  —  not  at  all.  I'm  very  fond  of  Mrs. 
Crowdie.  She's  a  cousin,  you  know." 

"Yes.  Well  —  I  don't  know  that  I  can  make 
you  understand  what  I  mean,  though.  Besides,  he's 
a  very  good  sort  of  fellow.  Never  heard  of  any 
thing  that  wasn't  all  right  about  him  —  at  least  — 
nothing  particular.  I  don't  know.  He's  like  some 
kind  of  strange,  pale,  tropical  fruit  that's  gone  bad 
at  the  core  and  might  be  poisonous.  Horrid  thing 
to  say  of  a  man,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  just  what  you  mean  ! "  answered 
Katharine,  with  a  little  movement  of  disgust. 

Miner  suddenly  became  thoughtful  again,  and 
they  reached  the  Crowdies'  house,  —  a  pretty  little 
one,  with  white  stone  steps,  unlike  the  ordinary 
houses  of  New  York.  Lafayette  Place  is  an  unfash 
ionable  nook,  rather  quiet  and  apparently  remote 
from  civilization.  It  has,  however,  three  digni 
ties,  as  the  astrologers  used  to  say.  The  Bishop 
of  New  York  has  his  official  residence  on  one 
side  of  it,  and  on  the  other  is  the  famous  Astor 


172  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Library.  A  little  further  down  there  was  at  that 
time  a  small  club  frequented  by  the  great  publish 
ers  and  by  some  of  their  most  expensive  authors. 
No  amateur  ever  twice  crossed  the  threshold  alive. 

Miner  rang  the  bell,  and  the  door  was  opened 
by  an  extremely  smart  old  man-servant  in  livery. 
The  Crowdies  were  very  prosperous  people.  Katha 
rine  asked  if  Hester  were  at  home.  The  man 
answered  that  Mrs.  Crowdie  was  not  receiving,  but 
that  he  believed  she  would  wish  to  see  Miss  Katha 
rine.  He  had  been  with  the  Ealstons  in  the 
Admiral's  lifetime  and  had  known  Katharine  since 
she  had  been  a  baby.  Crowdie  was  very  proud  of 
him  on  account  of  his  thick  white  hair. 

"I'll  go  in,"  said  the  young  girl.  "Good-bye, 
Mr.  Miner  —  thank  you  so  much  for  coming  with 
me." 

Miner  trotted  down  the  white  stone  steps  and 
Katharine  went  into  the  house,  and  waited  some 
minutes  in  the  pretty  little  sitting-room  with  the 
bow-window,  on  the  right  of  the  entrance.  She  was 
just  thinking  that  possibly  Hester  did  not  wish  to 
see  her,  after  all,  when  the  door  opened  and  Mrs. 
Crowdie  entered.  She  was  a  pale,  rather  delicate- 
looking  woman,  in  whose  transparent  features  it 
was  hard  to  trace  any  resemblance  to  her  athletic 
brother,  Hamilton  Bright.  But  she  was  not  an 
insignificant  person  by  any  means.  She  had  the 
Lauderdale  grey  eyes  like  so  many  of  the  family, 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  173 

but  with,  more  softness  in  them,  and  the  eyebrows 
were  finely  pencilled.  An  extraordinary  quantity 
of  silky  brown  hair  was  coiled  and  knotted  as 
closely  as  possible  to  her  head,  and  parted  low  on 
the  forehead  in  heavy  waves,  without  any  of  the 
ringlets  which  have  been  fashionable  for  years. 
There  were  almost  unnaturally  deep  shadows  under 
the  eyes,  and  the  mouth  was  too  small  for  the  face 
and  strongly  curved,  the  angles  of  the  lips  being 
very  cleanly  cut  all  along  their  length,  and  very 
sharply  distinct  in  colour  from  the  ivory  com 
plexion.  Altogether,  it  was  a  passionate  face  —  or 
perhaps  one  should  say  impassioned.  Imaginative 
people  might  have  said  that  there  was  something 
fatal  about  it.  Mrs.  Crowdie  was  even  paler  than 
usual  to-day,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  had  under 
gone  some  severe  strain  upon  her  strength. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  dear ! "  she  said, 
kissing  the  young  girl  on  both  cheeks  and  leading 
her  to  a  small  sofa  just  big  enough  to  accommodate 
two  persons,  side  by  side. 

"  You  look  tired  and  troubled,  Hester  darling," 
said  Katharine.  "  I  met  little  Frank  Miner  and  he 
told  me  that  Mr.  Crowdie  had  been  taken  ill.  I 
hope  it's  nothing  serious  ?  " 

"No  —  yes  —  how  can  I  tell  you  ?  He's  in  his 
studio  now,  as  though  nothing  had  happened  —  not 
that  he's  working,  for  of  course  he's  tired  —  oh, 
it  has  been  so  dreadful  —  I  wish  I  could  cry,  but  I 


174  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

can't,  you  know.  I  never  could.  That's  why  it 
hurts  so.  But  I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  I  had 
just  written  a  note  to  you  and  was  going  to  send  it, 
when  Fletcher  came  up  and  said  you  were  here. 
It  was  one  of  my  intuitions  —  I'm  always  doing 
those  things." 

It  was  so  evidently  a  relief  to  her  to  talk  that 
Katharine  let  her  run  on  till  she  paused,  before 
asking  a  question. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  him  ?  Tell  me, 
dear." 

Mrs.  Crowdie  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  sat 
holding  the  young  girl's  hand  and  staring  at  the 
fire. 

"Katharine,"  she  said  at  last,  "I'm  in  great 
trouble.  I  want  a  friend  —  not  to  help  me,  for  no 
one  can  —  I  must  bear  it  alone — but. I  must  speak, 
or  it  will  drive  me  mad." 

"  You  can  tell  me  everything  if  you  will,  Hester," 
said  Katharine,  gravely.  "  It  will  be  quite  safe 
with  me.  But  don't  tell  me,  if  you  are  ever  going 
to  regret  it." 

"Xo  —  I  was  thinking  —  " 

Mrs.  Crowdie  hesitated  and  there  was  a  short 
silence.  She  covered  her  eyes  for  an  instant  with 
one  small  hand — her  hands  were  small  and  pointed, 
but  not  so  thin  as  might  have  been  expected  from 
her  face  —  and  then  she  looked  at  her  companion. 
The  strong,  well-balanced  features  apparently  in- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  175 

spired  her  with  confidence.  She  nodded  slowly,  as 
though  reaching  a  conclusion  within  herself,  and 
then  spoke. 

"I  will  tell  you,  Katharine.  I'd  much  rather 
tell  you  than  any  one  else,  and  I  know  myself  — 
I  should  be  sure  to  tell  somebody  in  the  end. 
You're  like  a  man  in  some  things,  though  you  are 
only  a  girl.  If  I  had  a  man  friend,  I  think  I  should 
go  to  him  —  but  I  haven't.  Walter  has  always  been 
everything  to  me.  Somehow  I  never  get  intimate 
with  men,  as  some  women  do." 

"Surely  —  there's  your  brother,  Hester.  Why 
don't  you  go  to  him  ?  I  should,  in  your  place." 

"No,  dear.  You  don't  know  —  Hamilton  never 
approved  of  my  marriage.  Didn't  you  know  ?  He's 
such  a  good  fellow  that  he  wouldn't  tell  any  one 
else  so.  But  he  —  well  —  he  never  liked  Walter, 
from  the  first,  though  I  must  say  Walter  was  very 
nice  to  him.  And  about  the  arrangements  —  you 
know  I  had  a  settlement  —  Ham  insisted  upon  it  — 
so  that  my  little  fortune  is  in  the  hands  of  trustees 
—  your  father  is  one  of  them.  As  though  Walter 
would  ever  have  touched  it !  He  makes  me  spend 
it  all  on  myself.  No,  dear  —  I  couldn't  tell  my 
brother  —  so  I  shall  tell  you." 

She  stopped  speaking  and  leaned  forward,  bury 
ing  her  face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment,  as  though 
to  collect  her  thoughts.  Then  she  sat  up  again, 
and  looked  at  the  fire  while  she  spoke. 


176  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  It  was  last  night,"  she  said.  "  He  dined  with 
you,  and  I  stayed  at  home  all  by  myself,  not  being 
asked,  you  see,  because  it  was  at  a  moment's  notice 
—  it  was  quite  natural,  of  course.  Walter  came 
home  early,  and  we  sat  in  the  studio  a  long  time, 
as  we  often  do  in  the  evening.  There's  such  a 
beautiful  light,  and  the  big  fireplace,  and  cushions  — 
and  all.  I  thought  he  smoked  a  great  deal,  and 
you  know  he  doesn't  usually  smoke  much,  on  ac 
count  of  his  voice,  and  he  really  doesn't  care  for 
it  as  some  men  do.  I  wish  he  did  —  I  like  the 
smell  of  it,  and  then  a  man  ought  to  have  some 
little  harmless  vice.  Walter  never  drinks  wine, 
nor  coffee  —  nothing  but  Apollinaris.  He's  not  at 
all  like  most  men.  He  never  uses  any  scent,  but 
he  likes  to  burn  all  sorts  of  queer  perfumes  in  the 
studio  in  a  little  Japanese  censer.  I  like  cigars 
much  better,  and  I  always  tell  him  so, — and  he 
laughs.  How  foolish  I  am  !  "  she  interrupted  her 
self.  "But  it's  such  a  relief  to  talk — you  don't 
know ! " 

"Go  on,  dear  —  I'm  listening,"  said  Katharine, 
humouring  her,  and  speaking  very  gently. 

"Yes  —  but  I  must  tell  you  now." 

Katharine  saw  how  she  straightened  herself  to 
make  the  effort,  and  sitting  close  beside  her,  so 
that  they  touched  one  another,  she  felt  that  Hester 
was  pressing  back  against  the  sofa,  while  she  braced 
her  feet  against  a  footstool. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  177 

"  It  was  very  sudden,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"  We  were  talking  —  I  was  saying  something  —  all 
at  once  his  face  changed  so  —  oh,  it  makes  me 
shudder  to  think  of  it.  It  seemed  —  I  don't  know 
—  like  —  almost  like  a  devil's  face!  And  his  eyes 
see'med  to  turn  in  —  he  was  all  purple  —  and  his 
lips  were  all  wet  —  it  was  like  foam  —  oh,  it  was 
dreadful  —  too  awful ! " 

Katharine  was  startled  and  shocked.  She  could 
say  nothing,  but  pressed  the  small  hand  in  anxious 
sympathy.  Hester  smiled  faintly,  and  then  almost 
laughed,  but  instantly  recovered  herself  again.  She 
was  not  at  all  a  hysterical  woman,  and,  as  she  said, 
she  could  never  cry. 

"That's  only  the  beginning,"  she  continued. 
"  I  won't  tell  you  how  he  looked.  He  fell  over 
on  the  divan  and  rolled  about  and  caught  at  the 
cushions  and  at  me  —  at  everything.  He  didn't 
know  me  at  all,  and  he  never  spoke  an  articulate 
word  —  not  one.  But  he  groaned,  and  seemed  to 
gnash  his  teeth  —  I  believe  it  went  on  for  hours, 
while  I  tried  to  help  him,  to  hold  him,  to  keep  him 
from  hurting  himself.  And  then  —  after  a  long, 
long  time  —  all  at  once,  his  face  changed  again, 
little  by  little,  and  —  will  you  believe  it,  dear  ?  He 
was  asleep ! " 

"  How  strange  ! "  exclaimed  Katharine. 

«  Yes  —  wasn't  it  ?  But  it  seemed  so  merciful, 
and  I  was  so  glad.  And  I  sat  by  him  all  night 


178  KATHARINE  LAULERDALE. 

and  watched  him.  Then  early,  early  this  morning 
—  it  was  just  grey  through  the  big  skylight  of  the 
studio  —  he  waked  and  looked  at  ine,  and  seemed 
so  surprised  to  find  himself  there.  I  told  him  he 
had  fallen  asleep  —  which  was  true,  you  know  — 
and  he  seemed  a  little  dazed,  and  went  to  bed  very 
quietly.  But  to-day,  when  he  got  up — it  was  I 
who  sent  you  word  not  to  come,  because  he  had  told 
me  about  the  sitting  —  I  told  him  everything,  and 
insisted  upon  sending  for  Doctor  Routh.  He 
seemed  terribly  distressed,  but  wouldn't  let  me 
send,  and  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  look 
ing  at  me  as  though  his  heart  would  break.  But 
he  said  nothing,  except  that  he  begged  and  begged 
me  not  to  send  for  the  doctor." 

"  And  he's  quite  himself  now,  you  say  ?  " 

"Wait  —  the  worst  is  coining.  At  last  he  sat 
down  beside  me,  and  said  —  oh,  so  tenderly  —  that 
he  had  something  to  say  to  which  I  must  listen, 
though  he  was  afraid  that  it  would  pain  me  very 
much  —  that  he  had  thought  it  would  never  be 
necessary  to  tell  me,  because  he  had  imagined  that 
he  was  quite  cured  when  he  had  married  me.  Of 
course,  I  told  him  that  —  well,  never  mind  what  I 
said.  You  know  how  I  love  him." 

Katharine  knew,  and  it  was  incomprehensible  to 
her,  but  she  pressed  the  little  hand  once  more. 

"  He  told  me  that  nearly  ten  years  ago  he  had 
been  ill  with  inflammatory  rheumatism  —  that's 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  179 

the  name  of  it,  and  it  seems  that  it's  excruciatingly 
painful.  It  was  in  Paris,  and  the  doctors  gave  him 
morphia.  He  could  not  give  it  up  afterwards.57 

"  And  he  takes  morphia  still  ? "  asked  Katha 
rine,  anxiously  enough,  for  she  knew  what  it  meant. 

"  No  —  that's  it.  He  gave  it  up  after  five  years 
—  five  whole  years  —  to  marry  me.  It  was  hard, 
he  said,  but  he  felt  that  it  was  possible,  and  he 
loved  me,  and  he  determined  not  to  marry  me  while 
he  was  a  slave  to  the  poison.  He  gave  it  up  for 
my  sake.  Wasn't  that  heroic  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Katharine,  gravely,  and  wondering 
whether  she  had  misjudged  Crowdie.  "It  was 
really  heroic.  They  say  it  is  the  hardest  thing 
any  one  can  do.'7 

"  He  did  it.  I  love  him  ten  times  more  for  it  — 
but  —  this  is  the  result  of  giving  it  up,  dear.  He 
will  always  be  subject  to  these  awful  attacks.  He 
says  that  a  dose  of  morphia  would  stop  one  of 
them  instantly,  and  perhaps  prevent  their  coming 
back  for  a  long  time.  But  he  won't  take  it.  He 
says  he  would  rather  cut  off  his  hand  than  take  it, 
and  he  made  me  promise  not  to  give  it  to  him 
when  he  is  unconscious,  if  I  ever  see  him  in  that 
state  again.  He's  so  brave  about  it,'7  she  said,  with 
a  little  choking  sigh.  "I've  told  you  my  story, 
dear.77 

Her  face  relaxed  a  little,  and  she  opened  and  shut 
her  hands  slowly  as  though  they  had  been  stiffened. 


180  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Katharine  sat  with  her  half  an  hour  longer 
that  afternoon,  sympathizing  at  first  and  then 
trying  to  divert  her  attention  from  the  subject 
which  filled  all  her  heart  and  mind.  Then  she 
rose  to  go. 

As  they  went  out  together  from  the  little  sitting- 
room,  the  sound  of  Crowdie's  voice  came  down 
to  them  from  the  studio  in  the  upper  story.  The 
door  must  have  been  open.  Katharine  and  Hester 
stood  still  and  listened,  for  he  was  singing,  alone 
and  to  himself,  high  up  above  them,  a  little  song 
of  Tosti's  with  French  words. 

"  Si  vous  saviez  que  je  vous  aime." 

It  was  indeed  a  marvellous  voice,  and  as  Katha 
rine  listened  to  the  soft,  silver  notes,  and  felt 
the  infinite  pathos  of  each  phrase,  she  wondered 
whether,  with  all  his  success  as  a  painter,  Crowdie 
had  not  mistaken  his  career.  She  listened,  spell 
bound,  to  the  end. 

"  It's  divine  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  There's  no  other 
word  for  it." 

Hester  Crowdie  was  paler  than  ever,  and  her 
soft  grey  eyes  were  all  on  fire.  And  yet  she  had 
heard  him  hundreds  of  times.  Almost  before 
Katharine  had  shut  the  glass  door  behind  her,  she 
heard  the  sound  of  light,  quick  footsteps  as  Hester 
ran  upstairs  to  her  husband. 

"It's    all    very    strange,"    thought    Katharine. 


KATHAEINE  LAUDEEDALE.  181 

"  And  I  never  heard  of  morphia  having  those  effects 
afterwards.     But  then  —  how  should  I  know  ?  " 

And  meditating  on  the  many  emotions  she  had 
seen  in  others  during  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
she  hurried  homewards. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

MRS.  LAUDERDALE  had  met  with  temptations 
in  the  course  of  her  life,  but  they  had  not  often 
appealed  to  her  as  they  would  have  appealed  to 
many  women,  for  she  was  not  easily  tempted. 
A  number  of  forms  of  goodness  which  are  very 
hard  to  most  people  had  been  so  easy  to  her  that 
she  had  been  good  without  effort,  as,  on  the  whole, 
she  was  good  by  nature.  She  had  been  brought  up 
in  an  absolutely  fixed  religious  belief,  and  had 
never  felt  any  inclination  to  deviate  from  it,  nor  to 
speculate  about  the  details  of  it,  for  her  intellect 
was  rather  indolent,  and  in  most  positions  in  life 
her  common-sense,  which  was  strong,  had  taken 
the  place  of  the  complicated  mental  processes 
familiar  to  imaginative  people  like  Katharine. 
Such  imagination  as  Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  was 
occupied  with  artistic  matters. 

Her  vanity  had  always  been  satisfied  quite  natu 
rally,  without  effort  on  her  part,  by  her  own  great 
and  uncontested  beauty.  She  knew,  and  had 
always  known,  that  she  was  commonly  compared 
with  the  greatest  beauties  of  the  world,  by  men 
and  women  who  had  seen  them  and  were  able  to 
182 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  183 

judge.  Social  ambition  never  touched  her  either, 
and  she  never  remembered  to  have  met  with  a  sin 
gle  one  of  those  small  society  rebuffs  which  em 
bitter  the  lives  of  some  women.  Nobody  had  ever 
questioned  her  right,  nor  her  husband's  right,  nor 
that  of  any  of  the  family,  to  be  considered  equal 
with  the  first.  In  early  days  she  had  suffered  a 
little,  indeed,  from  not  being  rich  enough  to  exer 
cise  that  gift  of  almost  boundless  hospitality  which 
is  rather  the  rule  than  the  exception  among  Ameri 
cans,  and  which  is  said,  with  some  justice,  to  be 
an  especial  characteristic  of  Kentuckians.  Such 
troubles  as  she  had  met  with  had  chiefly  arisen 
from  the  smallness  of  her  husband's  income,  from 
peculiarities  of  her  husband's  character,  and  from 
her  elder  daughter's  headstrong  disposition.  And 
with  all  these  her  common-sense  had  helped  her 
continually. 

She  loved  amusement  and  she  had  it  in  abun 
dance,  in  society,  during  a  great  part  of  the  year. 
Her  talent  had  helped  her  to  procure  luxuries,  and 
she  had  been  generous  in  giving  a  large  share  of 
them  to  her  daughters.  She  had  soon  learned  to 
understand  that  society  wanted  her  for  herself,  and 
not  for  what  she  could  offer  it  in  her  own  home, 
and  she  had  been  nattered  by  the  discovery.  As 
for  Alexander,  he  had  many  good  qualities  which 
she  appreciated  when  she  compared  him  with  the 
husbands  of  other  women.  Generosity  with  money 


184  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

was  not  his  strong  point,  but  he  had  many  others. 
He  loved  her  tenaciously,  not  tenderly,  nor  pas 
sionately,  nor  in  any  way  that  was  at  all  romantic 
—  if  that  word  means  anything  —  and  certainly  not 
blindly,  but  tenaciously;  and  his  admiration  for 
her  beauty,  though  rarely  expressed,  found  expres 
sion  on  such  occasions  in  short,  strong  phrases 
which  left  no  manner  of  doubt  as  to  his  sincere 
conviction.  She  had  not  been  happy  with  him,  as 
boys  and  girls  mean  to  be  happy  —  for  the  rigidity 
of  very  great  strength,  when  not  combined  with 
a  corresponding  intellect,  is  excessively  weari 
some  in  the  companionship  of  daily  married  life. 
There  is  a  coldness,  a  lack  of  expression  and  of 
sympathy,  a  Pharaoh-like,  stony  quality  about  it 
which  do  not  encourage  affection,  nor  satisfy  an 
expansive  nature.  And  though  not  imaginative, 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  was  expansive.  She  had  a  few 
moments  of  despairing  regret  at  first.  She  felt 
that  she  might  just  as  well  have  married  a  mag 
nificent,  clean-built,  iron-bodied,  steel-jointed  loco 
motive,  as  the  man  she  had  chosen,  and  that  she 
could  produce  about  as  much  impression  on  his 
character  as  she  could  have  made  upon  such  an 
engine.  But  she  found  out  in  time  that,  within 
certain  limits,  he  was  quite  willing  to  do  what  she 
asked  of  him,  and  that  beyond  them  he  ran  his 
daily  course  with  a  systematic  and  unvarying 
regularity,  which  was  always  safe,  if  it  was  never 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  185 

amusing.  She  got  such  amusement  as  she  liked 
from  other  sources,  and  she  often  consoled  herself 
for  the  dulness  of  the  family  dinner,  when  she 
dined  at  home,  with  the  certainty  that,  during  sev 
eral  hours  before  she  went  to  bed,  the  most  desir 
able  men  at  a  great  ball  would  contest  the  honour 
of  dancing  with  her.  And  that  was  all  she  wanted 
of  them.  She  liked  some  of  them.  She  took  an 
interest  in  their,  doings,  and  she  listened  sym 
pathetically  to  the  story  of  their  troubles.  But  it 
was  not  in  her  nature  to  flirt,  nor  to  lose  her  head 
when  she  was  flattered,  and  if  she  sometimes 
doubted  whether  she  really  loved  her  husband  at 
all,  she  was  quite  certain  that  she  could  never  love 
any  one  else.  Perhaps  she  deserved  no  credit  for 
her  faithfulness,  for  it  was  quite  natural  to  her. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  her  temptations  had 
been  few,  in  reality,  and  she  had  scarcely  noticed 
them.  She  had  reached  the  most  painful  moment 
of  her  life  with  very  little  experience  of  what  she 
could  resist — the  moment  when  she  realized  that  the 
supremacy  of  her  beauty  was  at  an  end.  Of  course, 
she  had  exaggerated  very  much  the  change  which 
had  taken  place,  for  at  the  crucial  instant  when 
she  had  caught  sight  of  her  face  in  the  mirror  she 
had  been  unusually  tired,  considerably  bored  and 
not  a  little  annoyed  —  and  the  mirror  had  a  de 
cidedly  green  tinge  in  the  glass,  as  she  assured 
herself  by  examining  it  and  comparing  it  with  a 


186  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

good  one  on  the  following  morning.  But  the  im 
pression  once  received  was  never  to  be  effaced; 
she  might  look  her  very  best  in  the  eyes  of  others 
—  to  her  own,  the  lines  of  age  being  once  discov 
ered  were  never  to  be  lost  again,  the  dazzling 
freshness  was  never  to  come  back  to  her  skin,  nor 
the  gold  to  her  hair,  nor  the  bloom  to  her  lips. 
And  Crowdie,  who  was  an  artist,  and  almost  a 
great  portrait  painter,  could  not  take  his  eyes  from 
Katharine,  at  whom  no  one  would  have  looked  twice 
when  her  mother  had  been  at  the  height  of  her 
beauty.  At  least,  so  Mrs.  Lauderdale  thought. 

And  now,  until  Katharine  was  married  and  went 
away  from  home,  the  elder  woman  was  to  be  daily, 
almost  hourly,  compared  with  her  daughter  by  all 
who  saw  them  together ;  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  was  to  be  second  in  that  one  respect  in 
which  she  had  everywhere  been  first  ever  since  she 
could  remember,  and  she  was  to  be  second  in  her 
own  house.  When  she  realized  it,  she  was  horri 
fied,  and  for  a  time  her  whole  nature  seemed 
changed.  She  clung  desperately  to  that  beauty  of 
hers,  which  was,  had  she  known  it,  the  thing  she 
loved  best  on  earth,  and  which  had  reduced  in  her 
eyes  the  value  of  everything  else.  She  clung  to  it, 
and  yet,  from  that  fatal  moment,  she  knew  that  it 
was  hopeless  to  cling  to  it,  hopeless  to  try  and 
recall  it,  hopeless  to  hope  for  a  miracle  which, 
even  in  the  annals  of  miracles,  had  never  been  per- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  187 

formed  —  the  recall  of  youth.  The  only  possible 
mitigation  suggested  itself  as  a  spontaneous  in 
stinct  —  to  avoid  that  cruel  comparison  with  Katha 
rine.  In  the  first  hours  it  overcame  her  altogether. 
She  could  not  look  at  the  girl.  She  could  hardly 
bring  herself  to  speak  kindly  to  her;  though  she 
knew  that  she  would  willingly  lay  down  her  life 
for  the  child  she  loved  best,  she  could  not  lay 
down  her  beauty. 

She  was  terrified  at  herself  when  she  began  to 
understand  that  something  had  overcome  her  which 
she  felt  powerless  to  resist.  For  she  was  a  very 
religious  woman,  and  the  idea  of  envying  her  own 
daughter,  and  of  almost  hating  her  out  of  envy, 
was  monstrous.  When  Ralston  had  come,  she 
had  not  had  the  slightest  intention  of  speaking  as 
she  had  spoken.  Suddenly  the  words  had  come  to 
her  lips  of  themselves,  as  it  were.  If  things  went 
on  as  they  were  going,  Katharine  would  wait  for 
E/alston  during  years  to  come  —  the  girl  had  her 
father's  nature  in  that  —  and  Katharine  would  be 
at  home,  and  the  cruel,  hopeless  comparison  must 
go  on,  a  perpetual  and  a  keen  torture  from  which 
there  was  to  be  no  escape.  It  was  simply  impos 
sible,  intolerable,  more  than  human  endurance 
could  bear.  Ralston  must  be  sent  away,  Katha 
rine  must  be  married  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
peace  would  come.  There  was  no  other  way.  It 
would  be  easy  enough  to  marry  the  girl,  with  her 


188  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

position,  and  the  hope  of  some  of  Eobert  Lauder- 
dale's  money,  and  with  her  beauty  —  that  terrible 
beauty  of  hers  that  was  turning  her  mother's  to 
ugliness  beside  it.  The  first  words  had  spoken 
themselves,  the  others  had  followed  of  necessity, 
and  then,  at  the  end,  had  come  the  overwhelming 
consciousness  of  what  they  had  meant,  and  the 
breaking  down  of  the  overstrained  nerves,  and  the 
sobs  and  the  tears,  gushing  out  as  a  spring  where 
instant  remorse  had  rent  and  cleft  her  very  soul. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Katharine  did  not  under 
stand  what  was  taking  place.  Fortunately,  being 
much  occupied  with  her  own  very  complicated 
existence,  she  did  not  attempt  any  further  analysis 
of  the  situation,  did  not  accidentally  guess  what 
was  really  the  matter,  and  wisely  concluded  that 
it  would  be  best  to  leave  her  mother  to  herself  for 
a  time. 

On  the  morning  after  the  events  last  chronicled, 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  returned  to  her  work,  and  at  a 
quarter  before  eleven  Katharine  was  ready  to  go 
out  and  was  watching  for  Ralston  at  the  library 
window.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  in  the  distance 
she  let  herself  out  of  the  house  and  went  to  meet 
him.  He  glanced  at  her  rather  anxiously  as  they 
exchanged  greetings,  and  she  thought  that  he 
looked  tired  and  careworn.  There  were  shadows 
under  his  eyes,  and  his  dark  skin  looked  rather 
bloodless. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  189 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  had  an  ac 
cident  the  day  before  yesterday?"  she  asked  at 
once. 

"Who  told  you  I  had?"  he  enquired. 

"  Mr.  Miner.  I  went  out  alone  yesterday,  after 
you  had  gone,  and  I  met  him  at  the  corner  of 
Washington  Square.  He  told  me  all  about  it. 
How  can  you  do  such  things,  Jack?  How  can  you 
risk  your  life  in  that  way?  And  then,  not  to  tell 
me !  It  wasn't  kind.  You  seem  to  think  I  don't 
care.  I  wish  you  wouldn't!  I'm  sure  I  turned 
perfectly  green  when  Mr.  Miner  told  me  —  he  must 
have  thought  it  very  extraordinary.  You  might  at 
least  have  given  me  warning." 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Ealston.  "I  didn't 
think  it  was  worth  mentioning.  Wasn't  I  all 
right  when  I  came  to  see  you?  " 

He  looked  at  her  rather  anxiously  again  —  for 
another  reason,  this  time.  But  her  answer  satis 
fied  him. 

"  Oh  —  you  were  'dear  '  —  even  nicer  than  usual ! 
But  don't  do  it  again  —  I  mean,  such  things.  You 
don't  know  how  frightened  I  was  when  he  told  me. 
In  fact,  I'm  rather  ashamed  of  it,  and  it's  much 
better  that  you  shouldn't  know." 

"  All  right ! "  And  Kalston  smiled  happily. 
"Now,"  he  continued  after  a  moment's  thought, 
"  I  want  to  explain  to  you  what  I've  found  out 
about  this  idea  of  yours." 


190  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"Don't  call  it  an  idea,  Jack.  You  promised 
that  you  would  do -it,  you  know." 

"  Yes.  I  know  I  did.  But  it's  absolutely  im 
possible  to  have  it  quite  a  secret  —  theoretically, 
at  least." 

"Why?"  She  slackened  her  pace  instinctively, 
and  then,  seeing  that  they  were  just  entering  Fifth 
Avenue,  walked  on  more  briskly,  turning  down  in 
the  direction  of  the  Square. 

Kalston  told  her  in  a  few  words  what  he  had 
learned  from  the  lawyer. 

"You  see,"  he  concluded,  "there's  no  way  out 
of  it.  And,  of  course,  anybody  may  go  to  the 
Bureau  of  Vital  Statistics  and  look  at  the  records." 

"But  is  anybody  likely  to?"  asked  Katharine. 
"Is  the  Clerk  of  the  Records,  or  whatever  you 
call  him,  the  sort  of  man  who  would  be  likely  to 
know  papa,  for  instance?  That's  rather  important." 

"No.  I  shouldn't  think  so.  But  everybody 
knows  all  about  you.  You  might  as  well  be  the 
President  of  the  United  States  as  be  a  Lauderdale, 
as  far  as  doing  anything  incognito  is  concerned." 

"There's  only  one  President  at  a  time,  and  there 
are  twenty-three  Lauderdales  in  the  New  York 
directory  besides  ourselves,  and  six  of  them  are 
Alexanders." 

"Are  there?  How  did  you  happen  to  know 
that?"  asked  Ralston. 

"Grandpapa    looked    them   up   the   other   day. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  191 

He's  always  looking  up  things,  you  know  —  when 
he's  not  asleep,  poor  dear!  " 

"  That  certainly  makes  a  difference. " 

"Of  course  it  does,"  said  Katharine.  "No 
doubt  the  Clerk  of  the  Eecords  has  seen  the  name 
constantly.  Besides,  I  don't  suppose  he  does  the 
work  himself.  He  only  signs  things.  He  prob 
ably  looks  at  the  books  once  a  month,  or  something 
of  that  sort." 

"Even  then  —  he  might  come  across  the  entry, 
He  may  have  heard  my  name,  too  —  you  see  my 
father  was  rather  a  bigwig  in  the  Navy  —  and 
then,  seeing  the  two  together  —  " 

"And  what  difference  does  it  make?  It  isn't 
really  a  secret  marriage,  you  know,  Jack  —  at  least, 
it's  not  to  be  a  secret  after  I  tell  uncle  Robert, 
which  will  be  within  twenty-four  hours,  you  know. 
On  the  contrary,  I  shall  tell  him  that  we  meant  to 
tell  everybody,  and  that  it  will  be  an  eternal  dis 
grace  to  him  if  he  does  nothing  for  you." 

"He'll  bear  that  with  equanimity,  dear.  You 
won't  succeed." 

"  Something  will  have  to  be  done  for  us.  When 
we're  married  and  everybody  knows  it,  we  can't 
go  on  living  as  if  we  weren't  —  indefinitely  —  it 
would  be  too  ridiculous.  Papa  couldn't  stand  that 
—  he's  rather  afraid  of  ridicule,  I  believe,  though 
he's  not  afraid  of  anything  else.  So,  as  I  was 
saying,  something  will  have  to  be  done." 


192  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"That's  a  hopeful  view,"  laughed  Ralston. 
"  But  I  like  the  idea  that  it's  not  to  be  a  secret  for 
more  than  a  day.  It  makes  it  look  different." 

"  But  I  always  told  you  that  was  what  I  meant, 
dear  —  I  couldn't  do  anything  mean  or  underhand. 
Didn't  you  believe  me?  " 

"  Of  course  —  but  somehow  I  didn't  see  it  exactly 
as  I  do  now." 

"Oh,  Jack  —  you  have  no  more  sense  than  — 
than  a  small  yellow  dog !  " 

At  which  very  remarkable  simile  Ralston  laughed 
again,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  creature  that  had 
suggested  it  —  a  small  yellowish  cur  sitting  on  the 
pavement,  bolt  upright  against  the  railing,  and 
looking  across  the  street,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear 
and  making  his  pink  tongue  shake  with  a  perfectly 
unnecessary  panting,  the  very  picture  of  canine 
silliness. 

"Yes  —  that's  the  dog  I  mean,"  said  Katharine. 
"Look  at  him  —  he's  behaving  just  as  you  do, 
sometimes.  But  let's  be  serious.  What  am  I  to 
do?  Who  is  going  to  marry  us?" 

"Oh  —  I'll  find  somebody,"  answered  Ralston, 
confidently.  "  They  all  say  it's  easy  enough  to  be 
married  in  New  York,  but  that  it's  awfully  hard  to 
be  divorced." 

"All  the  better!"  laughed  Katharine.  "By 
the  bye  —  what  time  is  it?" 

"Five  minutes  to  eleven,"  answered  Ralston, 
looking  at  his  watch. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  193 

"Dear  me!  And  at  eleven  I'm  due  at  Mr. 
Crowdie's  for  my  portrait.  I  shall  be  late.  Go 
and  see  about  finding  a  clergyman  while  I'm  at 
the  studio.  It  can't  be  helped." 

Ealston  glanced  at  her  in  surprise.  Of  her  sit 
ting  for  her  portrait  he  had  not  heard  before. 

"I  must  say,"  he  answered,  "you  don't  seem 
inclined  to  waste  time  this  morning  —  " 

"Certainly  not!  Why  should  we  lose  time? 
We've  lost  a  whole  year  already.  Do  you  think 
I'm  the  kind  of  girl  who  has  to  talk  everything 
over  fifty  times  to  make  up  her  mind?  When  you 
came,  day  before  yesterday,  I'd  decided  the  whole 
matter.  And  now  I  mean  —  yes,  you  may  look  at 
me  and  laugh,  Jack  —  I  mean  to  put  it  through. 
I'm  much  more  energetic  than  you  seem  to  think. 
I  believe  you  always  imagined  I  was  a  lazy,  pokey, 
moony  sort  of  girl,  with  too  much  papa  and  mamma 
and  weak  tea  and  buttered  toast  in  her  nature. 
I'm  not,  you  know.  I'm  just  as  energetic  for  a 
girl  as  you  are  for  a  man." 

"Rather  more  so,"  said  Ealston,  watching  her 
with  intense  admiration  of  her  strong  and  beau 
tiful  self,  and  with  considerable  indifference  to 
what  she  was  saying,  though  her  words  amused 
him.  "Please  tell  me  about  Crowdie  and  the 
portrait." 

"Oh  —  the  portrait?  Mr.  Crowdie  wants  to 
paint  it  for  Hester.  I'm  going  to  sit  the  first  time 


194  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

this  morning.  That's  all.  Here  we  are  at  the 
corner.  We  must  cross  here  to  get  over  to  La 
fayette  Place." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Ralston,  as  they  walked  on, 
"there's  only  one  more  point,  and  that's  to  find  a 
clergyman.  I  suppose  you  can't  suggest  anybody, 
can  you  ?  " 

"Hardly!  You  must  manage  that.  I'm  sure 
I've  done  quite  enough  already." 

They  discussed  the  question  as  they  walked, 
without  coming  to  any  conclusion.  Ealston  de 
termined  to  spend  the  day  in  looking  for  a  proper 
person.  He  could  easily  withhold  his  name  in 
every  case,  until  he  had  made  the  arrangements. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  not  hard  to  find  a  clergy 
man  under  the  circumstances,  since  no  clergyman 
can  properly  refuse  to  marry  a  respectable  couple 
against  whom  he  knows  nothing.  The  matter  of 
subsequent  secrecy  becomes  for  him  more  a  ques 
tion  of  taste  than  of  conscience. 

They  reached  the  door  of  the  Crowdie  house,  and 
Katharine  turned  at  the  foot  of  the  white  stone 
steps  to  say  good-bye. 

"Say  you're  glad,  Jack  dear!"  she  said  sud 
denly,  as  she  put  out  her  hand,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"Glad!  Of  course  I'm  glad  —  no,  I  really  am 
glad  now,  though  I  wasn't  at  first.  It  looks  dif 
ferent —  it  looks  all  right  to-day." 

"  You  don't  look  just  as  I  expected  you  would, 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  195 

though,"  said  Katharine,  doubtfully.  "And  yet 
it  seems  to  me  you  ought  —  "  She  stopped. 

"Katharine  —  dear  —  you  can't  expect  me  to 
be  as  enthusiastically  happy  as  though  it  really 
meant  being  married  to  you  —  can  you?" 

"But  it  does  mean  it.  What  else  should  it 
mean,  or  could  it  mean?  Why  isn't  it  just  the 
same  as  though  we  had  a  big  wedding?  " 

"Because  things  won't  turn  out  as  you  think 
they  will,"  answered  Ralston.  "At  least,  not 
soon  —  uncle  Robert  won't  do  anything,  you  know. 
One  can't  take  fate  and  destiny  and  fortune  and 
shuffle  them  about  as  though  they  were  cards." 

"One  can,  Jack!  That's  just  it.  Everybody 
has  one  chance  of  being  happy.  We've  got  ours 
now,  and  we'll  take  it." 

"We'll  take  it  anyhow,  whether  it's  really  a 
chance  or  not.  Good-bye  —  dear  —  dear  —  " 

He  pressed  her  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice 
was  tender  and  rang  true,  but  it  had  not  that 
quaver  of  emotion  in  it  which  had  so  touched 
Katharine  on  that  one  evening,  and  which  she 
longed  to  hear  again ;  and  Ealston  missed  the  wave 
of  what  had  seemed  like  deep  feeling,  and  wished 
it  would  come  back.  His  nerves  were  perfectly 
steady  now,  though  he  had  been  late  at  his  club  on 
the  previous  evening,  and  had  not  slept  much. 

"I'll  write  you  a  note  this  afternoon,"  he  said, 
"as  soon  as  I've  arranged  with  the  clergyman.  If 


196  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

it  has  to  be  very  early,  you  must  find  some  excuse 
for  going  out  of  the  house.  Of  course,  I'll  manage 
it  as  conveniently  as  I  can  for  you." 

"Oh,  there'll  be  no  trouble  about  my  going 
out,"  answered  Katharine.  "Nobody  ever  asks 
me  where  I'm  going  in  the  morning.  You'll  let 
me  have  the  note  as  soon  as  you  can,  won't  you?" 

"  Of  course.  Before  dinner,  at  all  events.  Good 
bye  again,  dear." 

"  Good-bye  —  until  to-morrow." 

She  added  the  last  two  words  very  softly.  Then 
she  nodded  affectionately  and  went  up  the  steps. 
As  she  turned,  after  ringing  the  bell,  she  saw  him 
walking  away.  Then  he  also  turned,  instinctively, 
and  waved  his  hat  once,  and  smiled,  and  was  gone. 
Fletcher  opened  the  door,  and  Katharine  went  in. 

"How  is  Mr.  Crowdie  to-day  —  is  he  painting?" 
she  asked  of  the  servant. 

"Yes,  Miss  Katharine,  Mr.  Crowdie's  very  well, 
and  he  left  word  that  he  expected  you  at  eleven, 
Miss." 

"Yes,  I  know  — I'm  late." 

And  she  hurried  up  the  stairs,  for  she  had  often 
been  to  the  studio  with  Hester  and  with  Crowdie 
himself,  to  see  his  pictures,  and  knew  her  way. 
But  she  knocked  discreetly  at  the  door  when  she 
had  reached  the  upper  story  of  the  house. 

"Come  in,  Miss  Lauderdale,"  said  Crowdie's  sil 
very  voice,  and  she  heard  his  step  on  the  polished 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  197 

floor  as  he  left  his  work  and  came  forward  to 
meet  her. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  his  face  was  paler  and  his 
mouth  redder  than  ever,  and  the  touch  of  his  soft 
white  hand  was  exceedingly  unpleasant  to  her,  even 
through  her  glove. 

He  had  placed  a  big  chair  ready  for  her,  and  she 
sat  down  as  she  was,  with  her  hat  and  veil  on,  and 
looked  about.  Crowdie  pushed  away  the  easel  at 
which  he  had  been  working.  It  ran  almost  noise 
lessly  over  the  waxed  oak,  and  he  turned  it  with 
the  face  of  the  picture  to  the  wall  in  a  corner  at 
some  distance. 

The  studio  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  very  large 
room,  occupying  almost  the  whole  upper  story  of 
the  house,  which  was  deeper  than  ordinary  houses, 
though  not  very  broad  on  the  front.  The  studio 
was,  therefore,  nearly  twice  as  long  as  its  width, 
and  looked  even  larger  than  it  was  from  having 
no  windows  below,  and  only  one  door.  There  was, 
indeed,  a  much  larger  exit,  by  which  Crowdie  had 
his  pictures  taken  out,  by  an  exterior  stair  to  the 
yard,  but  it  was  hidden  by  a  heavy  curtain  on  one 
side  of  the  enormous  fireplace.  There  were  great 
windows,  high  up,  on  the  north  side,  which  must 
have  opened  above  the  roof  of  the  neighbouring 
house,  and  which  were  managed  by  cords  and 
weights,  and  could  be  shaded  by  rolling  shades  of 
various  tints  from  white  to  dark  grey.  Over  it 


198  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

was  a  huge  skylight,  also  furnished  with  contriv 
ances  for  modifying  the  light  or  shutting  it  out 
altogether. 

So  far,  the  description  might  answer  for  the 
interior  of  a  photographer's  establishment,  but 
none  of  the  points  enumerated  struck  Katharine 
as  she  sat  in  her  big  chair  waiting  to  be  told  what 
to  do. 

The  first  impression  was  that  of  a  magnificent 
blending  of  perfectly  harmonious  colours.  There 
was  an  indescribable  confusion  of  soft  and  beauti 
ful  stuffs  of  every  sort,  from  carpets  to  Indian 
shawls  and  Persian  embroideries.  The  walls,  the 
chairs  and  the  divans  were  covered  with  them,  and 
even  the  door  which  gave  access  to  the  stairs  was 
draped  and  made  to  look  unlike  a  door,  so  that 
when  it  was  shut  there  seemed  to  be  no  way  out. 
The  divans  were  of  the  Eastern  kind  —  great  plat 
forms,  as  it  were,  on  which  were  laid  broad  mat 
tresses,  then  stuffs,  and  then  endless  heaps  of 
cushions,  piled  up  irregularly  and  lying  about  in 
all  directions.  Only  the  polished  floor  was  almost 
entirely  bare  —  the  rest  was  a  mass  of  richness. 
But  that  was  all.  There  were  no  arms,  such  as 
many  artists  collect  in  their  studios,  no  objects  of 
^netal,  save  the  great  dull  bronze  fire-dogs  with 
lions'  heads,  no  plants,  no  flowers,  and,  excepting 
three  easels  with  canvases  on  them,  there  was 
nothing  to  suggest  the  occupation  of  Walter 


KATHAEINE  LAU DEED  ALE.  199 

Crowdie  —  nor  any  occupation  at  all.  Even  the 
little  Japanese  censer  in  which  Hester  said  that  he 
burned  strange  perfumes  was  hidden  out  of  sight 
when  not  in  use.  There  was  not  so  much  as  a 
sketch  or  a  drawing  or  a  bit  of  modelled  clay  to 
be  seen.  There  was  not  even  a  table  with  paints 
and  brushes.  Such  things  were  concealed  in  a  sort 
of  small  closet  built  out  upon  the  yard,  on  the 
opposite  side  from  the  outer  staircase,  and  hidden 
by  curtains. 

The  total  absence  of  anything  except  the  soft 
materials  with  which  everything  was  covered, 
produced  rather  a  strange  effect,  and  for  some 
mysterious  reason  it  was  not  a  pleasant  one.  Crow- 
die's  face  was  paler  and  his  lips  were  redder  than 
seemed  quite  natural;  his  womanish  eyes  were  too 
beautiful  and  their  glance  was  a  caress  —  as  warm 
velvet  feels  to  the  hand. 

"Won't  you  let  me  help  you  to  take  off  your 
veil?"  he  said,  coming  close  to  Katharine. 

"  Thank  you  —  I  can  do  it  myself,"  she  answered, 
with  unnecessary  coldness. 


CHAPTER   X. 

CROWDIE  stepped  backward  from  her,  as  she 
laid  her  hat  and  veil  upon  her  knee.  He  slowly 
twisted  a  bit  of  crayon  between  his  fingers,  as 
though  to  help  his  thoughts,  and  he  looked  at  her 
critically. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  paint  me  ?  "  she  asked, 
regretting  that  she  had  spoken  so  very  coldly  a 
moment  earlier. 

"That's  one  of  those  delightful  questions  that 
sitters  always  ask,"  answered  the  artist,  smiling  a 
little.  "  That's  precisely  what  I'm  asking  myself 
—  how  in  the  world  am  I  going  to  paint  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  —  that  isn't  what  I  meant !  I  meant  —  full 
face  or  side  face,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes,  —  of  course.  I  was  only  laughing  at 
myself.  You  have  no  idea  what  an  extraordinary 
change  taking  off  your  hat  makes,  Miss  Lauder- 
dale.  It  would  be  awfully  rude  to  talk  to  a  lady 
about  her  face  under  ordinary  circumstances.  In 
detail,  I  mean.  But  you  must  forgive  me,  because 
it's  my  profession." 

He  moved  about  with  sudden  steps,  stopping  and 
200 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  201 

gazing  at  her  each  time  that  he  obtained  a  new 
point  of  view. 

"  How  does  my  hat  make  such  a  difference  ?  " 
asked  Katharine.  "  What  sort  of  difference  ?  " 

"It  changes  your  whole  expression.  It's  quite 
right  that  it  should.  When  you  have  it  on,  one 
only  sees  the  face — the  head  from  the  eyes  down 
wards —  that  means  the  human  being  from  the 
perceptions  downwards.  When  you  take  your  hat 
off,  I  see  you  from  the  intelligence  upwards." 

"That  would  be  true  of  any  one." 

"No  doubt.  But  the  intelligence  preponderates 
in  your  case,  which  is  what  makes  the  contrast  so 
strong." 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  as  intelligent  as  all  that ! " 
Katharine  laughed  a  little  at  what  she  took  for  a 
piece  of  rather  gross  flattery. 

"No,"  answered  Crowdie,  thoughtfully.  "That 
is  your  peculiar  charm.  Do  you  mind  the  light  in 
your  eyes  ?  Just  to  try  the  effect  ?  So  ?  Does 
that  tire  you?" 

He  had  changed  the  arrangement  of  some  of  the 
shades  so  as  to  throw  a  strong  glare  in  her  face. 
She  looked  up  and  the  white  light  gleamed  like  fire 
in  her  grey  eyes. 

"I  couldn't  stand  it  long,"  she  said.  "Is  it 
necessary  ?  " 

"Oh,  no.  Nothing  is  necessary.  I'll  try  it 
another  way.  So."  He  moved  the  shades  again. 


202  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  What  a  funny  speech  ! "  exclaimed  Katharine. 
"  To  say  that  nothing  is  necessary  — 

"  It's  a  very  true  speech.  Nothing  is  the  same 
as  Pure  Being  in  some  philosophies,  and  Pure 
Being  is  the  only  condition  which  is  really  abso 
lutely  necessary.  Now,  would  you  mind  letting 
me  see  you  in  perfect  profile  ?  I'm  sorry  to  bother 
you,  but  it's  only  at  first.  When  we've  made  up 
our  minds  —  if  you'd  just  turn  your  head  towards 
the  fireplace,  a  little  more  —  a  shade  more,  please 
—  that's  it  —  one  moment  so  —  " 

He  stood  quite  still,  gazing  at  her  side  face  as 
though  trying  to  fix  it  in  his  memory  in  order  to 
compare  it  with  other  aspects. 

"I  want  to  paint  you  every  way  at  once,"  he 
said.  "May  I  ask  —  what  do  you  think,  yourself, 
is  the  best  view  of  your  face  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  answered  Katharine, 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  What  does  Hester  think  ? 
As  it's  to  be  for  her,  we  might  consult  her." 

"  But  she  doesn't  know  it's  for  her  —  she  thinks 
it's  for  you." 

"  We  might  ask  her  all  the  same,  and  take  her 
advice.  Isn't  she  at  home  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Crowdie,  after  a  moment's  hesi 
tation.  "  I  think  she's  gone  out  shopping." 

Katharine  was  not  naturally  suspicious,  but  there 
was  something  in  the  way  Crowdie  hesitated  about 
the  apparently  insignificant  answer  which  struck 


"'What  have  you  decided?*  she  enquired.'*— Vol.  I.,  p.  203. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  203 

her  as  odd.  She  had  made  the  suggestion  because 
his  mere  presence  was  so  absurdly  irritating  to  her 
that  she  longed  for  Hester's  company  as  an  allevia 
tion.  But  it  was  evident  that  Crowdie  did  not  want 
his  wife  at  that  moment.  He  wanted  to  be  alone 
with  Katharine. 

"  You  might  send  and  find  out/'  said  the  young 
girl,  mercilessly. 

"I'm  pretty  sure  she's  gone  out,"  Crowdie  re 
plied,  moving  up  an  easel  upon  which  was  set  a 
large  piece  of  grey  pasteboard.  "Even  if  she  is  in, 
she  always  has  things  to  do  at  this  time." 

He  looked  steadily  at  Katharine's  face  and  then 
made  a  quick  stroke  on  the  pasteboard,  then  looked 
again  and  then  made  another  stroke. 

"  What  have  you  decided  ?  "  she  enquired. 

"  Just  as  you  are  now,  with  your  head  a  little  on 
one  side  and  that  clear  look  in  your  eyes  —  no  — 
you  were  looking  straight  at  me,  but  not  in  full 
face.  Think  of  what  you  were  thinking  about  just 
when  you  looked." 

Katharine  smiled.  The  thought  had  not  been 
flattering  to  him.  But  she  did  as  he  asked  and 
met  his  eyes  every  time  he  glanced  at  her.  He 
worked  rapidly,  with  quick,  sure  strokes,  using  a  bit 
of  brown  chalk.  Then  he  took  a  long,  new,  black 
lead  pencil,  with  a  very  fine  point,  from  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  jacket,  and  very  carefully  made  a  few 
marks  with  it.  Instead  of  putting  it  back  when 


204  KATHA1UNE  LAUDERDALE. 

he  used  the  bit  of  pastel  again,  he  held  the  pencil 
in  his  teeth.  It  was  long  and  stuck  out  on  each 
side  of  his  bright  red  lips.  Oddly  enough,  Katha 
rine  thought  it  made  him  look  like  a  cat  with  black 
whiskers,  and  the  straight  black  line  forced  his 
mouth  into  a  wide  grin.  She  even  fancied  that  to 
increase  the  resemblance  his  eyes  looked  green 
when  he  gazed  at  her  intently,  and  that  the  pupils 
were  not  quite  round,  but  were  turning  into  upright 
slits.  She  looked  away  for  a  moment  and  almost 
smiled.  His  legs  were  a  little  in-kneed,  as  those 
of  a  cat  look  when  she  stands  up  to  reach  after 
anything.  There  was  something  feline  even  in 
his  little  feet,  which  were  short  with  a  very 
high  instep,  and  he  wore  low  shoes  of  dark  russet 
leather. 

"  There  is  a  smile  in  your  eyes,  but  not  in  your 
face,'7  said  Crowdie,  taking  the  pencil  from  between 
his  teeth.  "I  suppose  it's  rude  to  ask  you  what 
you  are  thinking  about  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,"  answered  Katharine.  "I  was 
thinking  how  funny  you  looked  with  that  pencil 
in  your  mouth." 

"Oh!"  Crowdie  laughed  carelessly  and  went 
on  with  his  work. 

Katharine  noticed  that  when  he  next  wished 
to  dispose  of  the  pencil  he  put  it  into  his  pocket. 
As  he  had  chosen  a  position  in  which  she  must 
look  directly  at  him,  she  could  not  help  observing 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  205 

all  his  movements,  while  her  thoughts  went  back 
to  her  own  interests  and  to  Kalston.  It  was  much 
more  pleasant  to  think  of  John  than  of  Crowdie. 

"I'm  discouraged  already,"  said  Crowdie,  sud 
denly,  after  a  long  silence,  during  which  he  had 
worked  rapidly.  "But  it's  only  a  first  attempt 
at  a  sketch.  I  want  a  lot  of  them  before  I  begin 
to  paint.  Should  you  like  to  rest  a  little  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Katharine  rose  and  came  forward  to  see  what 
he  had  been  doing.  She  felt  at  once  a  little  touch 
of  disappointment  and  annoyance,  which  showed 
that  she  was  not  altogether  deficient  in  vanity, 
though  of  a  pardonable  sort,  considering  what  she 
saw.  To  her  unpractised  eye  the  sketch  presented 
a  few  brown  smudges,  through  which  a  thin  pencil- 
line  ran  here  and  there. 

"You  don't  see  any  resemblance  to  yourself, 
I  suppose,"  said  Crowdie,  with  some  amusement. 

"  Frankly  —  I  hope  I'm  better  looking  than 
that,"  laughed  Katharine. 

"You  are.  Sometimes  you're  divinely  beauti 
ful."  His  voice  grew  exquisitely  caressing. 

Katharine  was  not  pleased. 

"I  didn't  ask  for  impossible  compliments,"  she 
said  coolly. 

"  Now  look,"  answered  Crowdie,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  little  rebuke,  and  touching  the  smudge  with 
his  fingers.  "You  mustn't  look  too  close,  you 


206  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

know.  You  must  try  and  get  the  effect  —  not 
what  you  see,  but  what  I  see." 

Without  glancing  at  her  face  he  quickly  touched 
the  sketch  at  many  points  with  his  thumb,  with 
his  finger,  with  his  bit  of  crayon,  with  his  needle- 
pointed  lead  pencil.  Katharine  watched  him 
intently. 

"Shut  your  eyes  a  little,  so  as  not  to  see  the 
details  too  distinctly,"  he  said,  still  working. 

The  face  began  to  stand  out.  There  was  very 
little  in  the  sketch,  but  there  was  the  beginning 
of  the  expression. 

"I  begin  to  see  something,"  said  Katharine, 
with  increasing  interest. 

«Yes  — look!" 

He  glanced  at  her  for  a  moment.  Then,  holding 
the  long  pencil  almost  by  the  end  and  standing 
well  back  from  the  pasteboard,  he  drew  a  single 
line  —  the  outline  of  the  part  of  the  face  and  head 
furthest  from  the  eye,  as  it  were.  It  was  so  mas 
terly,  so  simple,  so  faultless,  and  yet  so  striking 
in  its  effect,  that  Katharine  held  her  breath  while 
the  point  moved,  and  uttered  an  exclamation  when 
it  stopped. 

"  You  are  a  great  artist ! " 

Crowdie  smiled. 

"  I  didn't  ask  for  impossible  compliments,"  he 
said,  repeating  her  own  words  and  imitating  her 
tone,  as  he  stepped  back  from  the  easel  and 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  207 

looked  at  what  he  had  done.  "  She's  not  so  bad- 
looking,  is  she  ?  "  He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and 
found  two  or  three  bits  of  coloured  pastels  and 
rubbed  a  little  of  each  upon  the  pasteboard  with 
his  fingers.  "More  life-like,  now.  How  do  you 
like  that  ?  " 

"It's  wonderful!" 

"  Wonderfully  like  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  I  mean  that  it's  a  wonder 
ful  performance.  It's  not  for  me  to  judge  of  the 
likeness." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  In  spite  of  proverbs,  we're  the  only 
good  judges  of  ourselves  —  outwardly  or  inwardly. 
Will  you  sit  down  again,  if  you  are  rested  ?  Do 
you  know,  I'm  almost  inclined  to  dab  a  little 
paint  on  the  thing  —  it's  a  lucky  hit  —  or  else  you're 
a  very  easy  subject,  which  I  don't  believe." 

"And  yet  you  were  so  discouraged  a  moment 
ago." 

"That's  always  my  way.  I  don't  know  about 
other  artists,  of  course.  It's  only  amateurs  that 
tell  each  other  their  sensations  about  their  daubs. 
We  don't.  But  I'm  always  in  a  fit  just  before  I'm 
going  to  succeed." 

Katharine  said  nothing  as  she  went  back  to  her 
seat,  but  the  expression  he  had  just  used  chilled 
her  suddenly.  She  had  received  a  vivid  impres 
sion  from  the  account  Hester  had  given  her  of  his 
recent  attack,  and  she  had  unconsciously  associated 


208  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

the  idea  of  a  fit  with  his  ailment.  Then  she  was 
amused  at  her  own  folly. 

Crowdie  looked  at  her  keenly,  then  at  his  draw 
ing,  and  then  seemed  to  contemplate  a  particular 
point  at  the  top  of  her  head.  She  was  not  watch 
ing  him,  as  she  knew  that  he  was  not  yet  working 
again.  There  was  an  odd  look  in  his  beautiful 
eyes  which  would  not  have  pleased  her,  had  she 
seen  it.  He  left  the  easel  again  and  came  towards 
her. 

"  Would  you  mind  letting  me  arrange  your  hair 
a  little  ?  "  he  asked,  stopping  beside  her. 

Katharine  instinctively  raised  one  hand  to  her 
head,  and  it  unexpectedly  met  his  fingers,  which 
were  already  about  to  touch  her  hair.  The  sensa 
tion  was  so  inexpressibly  disagreeable  to  her  that 
she  started,  lowering  her  head  as  though  to  avoid 
him,  and  speaking  sharply. 

"  Don't !  "  she  cried.     "  I  can  do  it  myself." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Crowdie,  drawing 
back.  "  It's  the  merest  trifle  —  but  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  do  it  yourself.  I  didn't  know  you  were 
so  nervous,  or  I  would  have  explained.  Won't 
you  let  me  take  the  end  of  my  pencil  and  just  lift 
your  hair  a  little?  It  makes  such  a  difference  in 
the  outline." 

It  struck  Katharine  that  she  was  behaving  very 
foolishly,  and  she  sat  up  straight  in  her  chair. 

"Of    course,"   she  said,   quite   naturally.     "Do 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      209 

it  in  any  way  you  like.  I've  a  horror  of  being 
touched  unexpectedly,  that's  all.  I  suppose  I 
really  am  nervous." 

Which  was  not  at  all  true  in  general,  though  as 
regards  Crowdie  it  was  not  half  the  truth. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  proceeding  to  move 
her  hair,  touching  it  very  delicately  with  his 
pointed  white  fingers.  "It  was  stupid  of  me, 
but  most  people  don't  mind.  There  —  if  you  only 
knew  what  a  difference  it  makes.  Just  a  little 
bit  more,  if  you'll  let  me  —  on  the  other  side. 
Now  let  me  look  at  you,  please  —  yes — that's  just 
it." 

Katharine  suffered  intensely  during  those  few 
moments.  Something  within  her,  of  which  she  had 
never  been  conscious  before,  but  which  was  most 
certainly  a  part  of  herself,  seemed  to  rise  up  in 
fury,  outraged  and  insulted,  against  something  in 
the  man  beside  her,  which  filled  her  with  a  vague 
terror  and  a  positive  disgust.  While  his  soft  and 
womanish  fingers  touched  her  hair,  she  clasped  her 
hands  together  till  they  hurt,  and  repeated  to  her 
self  with  set  lips  that  she  was  foolish  and  nervous 
and  unstrung.  She  could  not  help  the  sigh  of  relief 
which  escaped  her  lips  when  he  had  finished  and 
went  back  to  his  easel.  Perhaps  he  noticed  it. 
At  all  events  he  became  intent  on  his  work  and 
said  nothing  for  fully  five  minutes. 

During  that  time  she  looked  at  him  and  tried  to 


210  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

solve  the  mystery  of  her  unaccountable  sensations. 
She  thought  of  what  her  mother  had  said  —  that 
Cro\vdie  was  like  a  poisonous  flower.  He  was  so 
white  and  red  and  soft,  and  the  place  was  so  still 
and  warm,  with  its  masses  of  rich  drapery  that 
shut  off  every  sound  of  life  from  without.  And 
she  thought  of  what  Miner  had  said  —  oddly 
enough,  in  exactly  the  same  strain,  that  he  was 
like  some  strange  tropical  fruit  —  gone  bad  at 
the  core.  Fruit  or  flower,  or  both,  she  thought. 
Either  was  apt  enough. 

The  air  was  perfectly  pure.  It  was  only  warm 
and  still.  Possibly  there  was  the  slightest  smell 
of  turpentine,  which  is  a  clean  smell  and  a  whole 
some  one.  Whatever  the  perfumes  might  be  which 
he  occasionally  burned,  they  left  no  trace  behind. 
And  yet  Katharine  fancied  they  were  there  — 
unholy,  sweet,  heavy,  disquieting,  offending  that 
something  which  in  the  young  girl  had  never  been 
offended  before.  The  stillness  seemed  too  warm 
—  the  warmth  too  still  —  his  face  too  white  —  his 
mouth  was  as  scarlet  and  as  heavy  as  the  blossom 
of  the  bright  red  calla  lily.  There  was  something 
repulsively  fascinating  about  it,  as  there  is  in  a 
wound. 

"You're  getting  tired,"  he  said  at  last.  "Tin 
not  surprised.  It  must  be  much  harder  to  sit  than 
to  paint." 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  tired  ?  "  asked  Katha- 


KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  211 

rine,  moving  from  her  position,  and  looking  at  a 
piece  of  Persian  embroidery  on  the  opposite  wall. 

"Your  expression  had  changed  when  I  spoke," 
he  said.  "But  it's  not  at  all  necessary  to  sit 
absolutely  motionless  as  though  you  were  being 
photographed.  It's  better  to  talk.  The  expres 
sion  is  like  —  He  stopped. 

"  Like  what  ? "  she  asked,  curious  to  hear  a 
definition  of  what  is  said  too  often  to  be  unde- 
finable. 

"  Well  —  I  don't  know.  Language  isn't  my 
strong  point,  if  I  have  any  strong  point  at  all." 

"  That's  an  affectation,  at  all  events ! "  laughed 
Katharine,  becoming  herself  again  when  not 
obliged  to  look  at  him  fixedly. 

"  Is  it  ?  Well  —  affectation  is  a  good  word. 
Expression  is  not  expression  when  it's  an  affected 
expression.  It's  the  tone  of  voice  of  the  picture. 
That  sounds  wild,  but  it  means  something.  A 
speech  in  print  hasn't  the  expression  it  has  when 
it's  well  spoken.  A  photograph  is  a  speech  in 
print.  It's  the  truth  done  by  machinery.  It's 
often  striking  at  first  sight,  but  you  get  tired  of 
it,  because  what's  there  is  all  there  —  and  what  is 
not  there  isn't  even  suggested,  though  you  know 
it  exists." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Katharine,  who  was  inter 
ested  in  what  he  said,  and  had  momentarily  forgot 
ten  his  personality. 


212  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"That  shows  how  awfully  clever  you  are,"  he 
answered  with  a  silvery  little  laugh.  "I  know 
it's  far  from  clear.  There's  a  passage  somewhere 
in  one  of  Tolstoi's  novels  — '  Peace  and  War,'  I 
think  it  is  —  about  the  impossibility  of  expressing 
all  one  thinks.  It  ought  to  follow  that  the  more 
means  of  expression  a  man  has,  the  nearer  he 
should  get  to  expressing  everything  in  him.  But  it 
doesn't.  There's  a  fallacy  somewhere  in  the  idea. 
Most  things  —  ideas,  anything  you  choose  to  call 
them  —  are  naturally  expressible  in  a  certain  mate 
rial —  paint,  wood,  fiddle-strings,  bronze  and  all 
that.  Come  and  look  at  yourself  now.  You  see 
I've  restrained  my  mania  for  oils  a  few  minutes. 
I'm  trying  to  be  conscientious." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  on  talking  about  expres 
sion,"  said  Katharine,  rising  and  coming  up  to  the 
easel.  "It  seems  very  much  improved,"  she  added 
as  she  saw  the  drawing.  "  How  fast  you  work  !  " 

"  There's  no  such  thing  as  time  when  things  go 
right,"  replied  Crowdie.  "Excuse  me  a  moment. 
I'll  get  something  to  paint  with." 

He  disappeared  behind  the  curtain  in  the  corner, 
to  the  out-built  closet  in  which  he  kept  his  colours 
and  brushes,  and  Katharine  was  left  alone.  She 
stood  still  for  a  few  moments  contemplating  the 
growing  likeness  of  herself.  There  was  as  yet 
hardly  any  colour  in  the  sketch,  no  more,  in  fact, 
than  he  had  rubbed  on  while  she  had  watched  him 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  213 

do  it,  when  she  had  rested  the  first  time.  It  was 
not  easy  to  see  what  he  had  done  since,  and  yet 
the  whole  effect  was  vastly  improved.  As  she 
looked,  the  work  itself,  the  fine  pencil-line,  the 
smudges  of  brown  and  the  suggestions  of  colouring 
seemed  all  so  slight  as  to  be  almost  nothing  —  and 
yet  she  felt  that  her  expression  was  there.  She 
thought  of  her  mother's  laborious  and  minutely 
accurate  drawing,  which  never  reached  any  such 
effect  as  this,  and  she  realized  the  almost  impossi 
ble  gulf  which  lies  betAveen  the  artist  and  the 
amateur  who  has  tried  too  late  to  become  one  — 
in  whom  the  evidence  of  talent  is  made  unrecog 
nizable  by  an  excess  of  conscientious  but  wholly 
misapplied  labour.  The  amateur  who  has  never 
studied  at  all  may  sometimes  dash  off  a  head  with 
a  few  lines,  which  would  be  taken  for  the  careless 
scrawling  of  a  clever  professional.  But  the  ama 
teur  who,  too  late,  attempts  to  perfect  himself  by 
sheer  study  and  industry  is  almost  certainly  lost 
as  an  artist  —  a  fact  which  is  commonly  interpreted 
to  mean  that  art  itself  comes  by  inspiration,  and 
that  so-called  genius  needs  no  school ;  whereas  it 
only  means  that  if  we  go  to  school  at  all  we  must 
go  at  the  scholar's  age  and  get  the  tools  of  expres 
sion,  and  learn  to  handle  them,  before  we  have 
anything  especial  to  express. 

"  Still  looking  at   it  ? "  asked  Crowdie,  coming 
out  of  his  sanctum  with  a  large  palette  in  his  left 


214  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

hand,  and  a  couple  of  brushes  in  his  right.  "  Now 
I'm  going  to  begin  by  spoiling  it  all." 

There  were  four  or  five  big,  butter-like  squeez- 
ings  of  different  colours  on  the  smooth  surface  of 
the  board.  Crowdie  stuck  one  of  his  brushes 
through  the  thumb-hole  of  the  palette,  and  with 
the  other  mixed  what  he  wanted,  dabbing  it  into 
the  paints  and  then  daubing  them  all  together. 
Katharine  sat  down  once  more. 

"  I  thought  painters  always  used  palette-knives," 
she  said,  watching  him. 

"Oh  —  anything  answers  the  purpose.  I  some 
times  paint  with  my  ringers  —  but  it's  awfully 
messy." 

"I  should  think  so,"  she  laughed,  taking  her 
position  again  as  he  looked  at  her. 

«Yes  —  thank  you,"  he  said.  "If  you  won't 
mind  looking  at  me  for  a  minute  or  two,  just  at 
first.  I  want  your  eyes,  please.  After  that  you 
can  look  anywhere  you  like." 

"  Do  you  always  paint  the  eyes  first  ? "  asked 
Katharine,  idly,  for  the  sake  of  not  relapsing  into 
silence. 

"  Generally — especially  if  they're  looking  straight 
out  of  the  picture.  Then  they're  the  principal 
thing,  you  know.  They  are  like  little  holes — if 
you  look  steadily  at  them  you  can  see  the  real 
person  inside.  That's  the  reason  why  a  portrait 
that  looks  at  you,  if  it's  like  at  all,  is  so  much 
more  like  than  one  that  looks  away." 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  215 

"How  naturally  you  explain  things!"  exclaimed 
the  young  girl,  becoming  interested  at  once. 

"Things  are  so  natural,"  answered  the  painter. 
"Everything  is  natural.  That's  one  of  my  brother- 
in-law's  maxims." 

"It  sounds  like  a  truism." 

"Everything  that  is  true  sounds  like  a  truism  — 
and  is  one.  We  know  everything  that's  true,  and 
it  all  sounds  old  because  we  do  know  it  all." 

"  What  an  extraordinary  way  of  putting  it  —  to 
say  that  we  know  everything !  But  we  don't,  you 
know ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  do  —  as  far  as  we  ever  can  know  at 
all.  I  don't  mean  little  peddling  properties  of 
petroleum  and  tricks  with  telephones  —  what  they 
call  science,  you  know.  I  mean  about  big  things 
that  don't  change  —  ideas." 

"  Oh  —  about  ideas.  You  mean  right  and  wrong, 
and  the  future  life  and  the  soul,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes.  That's  exactly  what  I  mean.  In  a  hun 
dred  thousand  ages  we  shall  never  get  one  inch 
further  than  we  are  now.  A  little  bit  more  to 
the  right,  please  —  but  go  on  looking  at  me  a 
moment  longer,  if  you're  not  tired." 

"  I've  only  just  sat  down  again.  But  what  you 
were  saying  —  you  meant  to  add  that  we  know 
nothing,  and  that  it's  all  a  perfectly  boundless 
uncertainty." 

"  Not  at  all.     I  think  we  know  some  things  and 


216  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

shan't  lose  them,  and  we  don't  know  some  others 
and  never  shall." 

"  What  kind  of  things,  for  instance  ? "  asked 
Katharine.  "In  the  first  place,  there  is  a  soul, 
and  it  is  immortal." 

"  Lucretius  says  that  there  is  a  soul,  but  that 
it  isn't  immortal.  There's  something,  anyhow  — 
something  I  can't  paint.  People  who  deny  the 
existence  of  the  soul  never  tried  to  paint  portraits, 
I  believe." 

"  You  certainly  have  most  original  ideas." 

"  Have  I  ?  But  isn't  that  true  ?  I  know  it  is. 
There's  something  in  every  face  that  I  can't  paint 
—  that  the  greatest  painter  that  ever  lived  can't 
paint.  And  it's  not  on  account  of  the  material, 
either.  One  can  get  just  as  near  to  it  in  black 
and  white  as  in  colours,  —  just  near  enough  to 
suggest  it,  —  and  yet  one  can  see  it.  I  call  it  the 
ghost.  I  don't  know  whether  there  are  ghosts  or 
not,  but  people  say  they've  seen  them.  They  are 
generally  colourless,  apparently,  and  don't  stay 
long.  But  did  you  ever  notice,  in  all  those  stories, 
that  people  always  recognize  the  ghost  instantly 
if  it's  that  of  a  person  they've  known  ?  " 

"Yes.  Now  I  think  of  it,  that's  true,"  said 
Katharine. 

"  Well,  that's  why  I  call  the  recognizable  some 
thing  about  the  living  person  his  ghost.  It's  what 
we  can't  get.  Now,  another  thing.  If  one  is  told 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  217 

that  the  best  portrait  of  some  one  whom  one  knows 
is  a  portrait  of  some  one  else  instead,  one  isn't 
much  surprised.  No,  really  —  I've  tried  it,  just  to 
test  the  likeness.  Most  people  say  they  are  sur 
prised,  but  they're  not.  They  fall  into  the  trap 
in  a  moment,  and  tell  you  that  they  see  that  they 
were  mistaken,  but  that  it's  a  strong  resemblance. 
That  couldn't  happen  with  a  real  person.  It  hap 
pens  easily  with  a  photograph  —  much  more  easily 
than  with  a  picture.  But  with  a  real  person  it's 
quite  different,  even  though  he  may  have  changed 
immensely  since  you  saw  him  —  far  beyond  the 
difference  between  a  good  portrait  and  the  sitter, 
so  far  as  details  are  concerned.  But  the  person  — 
you  recognize  him  at  once.  By  what  ?  By  that 
something  which  we  can't  catch  in  a  picture.  I 
call  it  the  ghost  —  it's  a  mere  fancy,  because  people 
used  to  believe  that  a  ghost  was  a  visible  soul." 

"  How  interesting ! "  exclaimed  Katharine.  "  And 
it  sounds  true." 

"  A  thing  must  sound  true  to  be  interesting," 
said  Crowdie.  "  Excuse  me  a  moment.  I  want 
another  colour." 

He  dived  into  the  curtained  recess,  and  Katha 
rine  watched  the  disagreeable  undulation  of  his 
movements  as  he  walked.  She  wondered  why 
she  was  interested  as  soon  as  he  talked,  and  re 
pelled  as  soon  as  he  was  silent.  Much  of  what 
he  said  was  more  or  less  paradoxical,  she  thought, 


218      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  not  altogether  unlike  the  stuff  talked  by 
cynical  young  men  who  pick  up  startling  phrases 
out  of  books,  and  change  the  subject  when  they 
are  asked  to  explain  what  they  mean.  But  there 
was  something  more  in  what  he  said,  and  there 
was  the  way  of  saying  it,  and  there  was  the  weight 
a  man's  sayings  carry  when  he  is  a  real  master  of 
one  thing,  no  matter  how  remote  from  the  subject 
of  which  he  is  speaking.  Crowdie  came  back 
almost  immediately  with  his  paint. 

"Your  eyes  are  the  colour  of  blue  fox,"  he  re 
marked,  dabbing  on  the  palette  with  his  brush. 

"  Are  they  ?  They're  a  grey  of  some  sort,  I 
believe.  But  you  were  talking  about  the  soul." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  was ;  but  I'm  glad  I've  done 
with  it.  I  told  you  that  language  wasn't  my 
strong  point." 

"Yes — but  you  may  be  able  to  say  lots  of  inter 
esting  things,  besides  painting  well." 

"Not  compared  with  people  who  are  good  at 
talking.  I've  often  been  struck  by  that." 

He  stopped  speaking,  and  made  one  or  two  very 
careful  strokes,  concentrating  his  whole  attention 
for  the  moment. 

"  Struck  by  what  ?  "  asked  Katharine. 

"By  the  enormous  amount  some  men  know  as 
compared  with  what  they  can  do.  I  believe  that's 
what  I  meant  to  say.  It  wasn't  particularly  worth 
saying,  after  all.  There  —  that's  better!  Just  one 


KATHARINE  LAUDEIWALE.  219 

moment  more,  please.  I  know  I'm  tiring  you  to 
death,  but  I'm  so  interested  —  " 

Again  he  executed  a  very  fine  detail. 

"  There  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  we  can  talk. 
Don't  you  want  to  move  about  a  little  ?  I  don't 
ask  you  to  look  at  the  thing  —  it's  a  mere  begin 
ning  of  a  sketch  —  it  isn't  the  picture,  of  course." 

"  But  I  want  to  see  it,"  said  Katharine. 

"  Oh,  of  course.  But  you  won't  like  it  so  much 
now  as  you  did  at  first." 

Katharine  saw  at  once  that  he  was  right,  and 
that  the  painting  was  not  in  a  stage  to  bear  exam 
ination,  but  she  looked  at  it,  nevertheless,  with 
a  vague  idea  of  learning  something  about  the  art 
by  observing  its  processes.  Crowdie  stood  at  a 
little  distance  behind  her,  his  palette  and  brushes 
still  in  his  hand.  Indeed,  there  was  no  place  but 
the  floor  where  he  could  have  laid  them  down. 
She  knew  that  he  was  there,  and  she  was  certain 
that  he  was  looking  at  her.  The  strange  nervous 
ness  and  sense  of  repulsion  came  over  her  at  once, 
but  in  her  determination  not  to  yield  to  anything 
which  seemed  so  foolish,  she  continued  to  scruti 
nize  the  rough  sketch  on  the  easel.  Crowdie,  on 
his  part,  said  nothing,  as  though  fearing  lest  the 
sound  of  his  voice  should  disturb  the  graceful  lines 
of  her  figure  as  she  stood  there. 

At  last  she  moved  and  turned  away,  but  not 
towards  him.  Suddenly,  from  feeling  that  he  was 


220      KATUA1UNE  LAUDERDALE. 

looking  at  her,  she  felt  that  she  could  not  meet 
his  eyes.  She  knew  just  what  they  would  be  like, 
long,  languishing  and  womanish,  with  their  sweep 
ing  lashes,  and  they  attracted  her,  though  she  did 
not  wish  to  see  them.  She  walked  a  few  steps 
down  the  length  of  the  great  room,  and  she  was 
sure  that  those  eyes  were  following  her.  An  in 
tense  and  quite  unaccustomed  consciousness  over 
came  her,  though  she  was  never  what  is  called 
shy. 

She  was  positively  certain  that  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  back  of  her  head,  willing  her  to  turn 
and  look  at  him;  but  she  would  not.  Then  she 
saw  that  she  was  reaching  the  end  of  the  room, 
and  that,  unless  she  stood  there  staring  at  the 
tapestries  and  embroideries,  she  must  face  him. 
She  felt  the  blood  rush  suddenly  to  her  throat  and 
just  under  her  ears,  and  she  knew  that  she  who 
rarely  blushed  at  all  was  blushing  violently.  She 
either  did  not  know  or  she  forgot  that  a  blush  is 
as  beautiful  in  most  dark  women  as  it  is  unbecom 
ing  and  even  painful  to  see  in  fair  ones.  She  was 
only  conscious  that  she  had  never,  in  all  her  many 
recollections,  felt  so  utterly  foolish,  and  angry 
with  herself,  and  disgusted  with  the  light,  as  she 
did  at  that  moment.  Just  as  she  reached  the 
wall,  she  heard  his  footstep,  and  supposing  that 
he  had  changed  his  position,  she  turned  at  once 
with  a  deep  sense  of  relief. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  221 

Crowdie  was  standing  before  his  easel  again, 
studying  what  he  had  done,  as  unconcernedly  as 
though  he  had  not  noticed  her  odd  behaviour. 

"I  feel  flushed/'  she  said.  "It  must  be  very 
warm  here." 

"Is  it?"  asked  Crowdie.  "I'll  open  something. 
But  if  you've  had  enough  of  it  for  the  first  day, 
I  can  leave  it  as  it  is  till  the  next  sitting.  Can 
you  come  to-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes.  That  is  —  no — I  may  have  an  engage 
ment."  She  laughed  nervously  as  she  thought 
of  it. 

"The  afternoon  will  do  quite  as  well,  if  you 
prefer  it.  Any  time  before  three  o'clock.  The 
light  is  bad  after  that." 

"  I  think  the  day  after  to-morrow  would  be  better, 
if  you  don't  mind.  At  the  same  hour,  if  you 
like." 

"By  all  means.  And  thank  you,  for  sitting  so 
patiently.  It's  not  every  one  who  does.  I  sup 
pose  I  mustn't  offer  to  help  you  with  your  hat." 

"  Thanks,  I  can  easily  manage  it,"  answered 
Katharine,  careful,  however,  to  speak  in  her  or 
dinary  tone  of  voice.  "  If  you  had  a  looking-glass 
anywhere  —  "  She  looked  about  for  one. 

"There's  one  in  my  paint  room,  if  you  don't 
mind." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  curtain  behind  which  he 
had  disappeared  in  search  of  his  colours,  and  held 


222  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

it  up.  There  was  an  open  door  into  the  little 
room  —  which  was  larger  than  Katharine  had  ex- 
pected  —  and  a  dressing-table  and  mirror  stood  in 
the  large  bow-window  that  was  built  out  over  the 
yard.  Crowdie  stood  holding  the  curtain  back  while 
she  tied  her  veil  and  ran  the  long  pin  through  her 
hat.  It  did  not  take  more  than  a  minute,  and 
she  passed  out  again. 

"  That's  a  beautiful  arrangement,"  she  said.  "  A 
looking-glass  would  spoil  the  studio." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  as  he  walked  towards  the 
door  by  her  side.  "  You  see  there  isn?t  an  object 
but  stuffs  and  cushions  in  the  place,  and  a  chair 
for  you  —  and  my  easels  —  all  colour.  I  want 
nothing  that  has  shape  except  what  is  human,  and 
I  like  that  as  perfect  as  possible." 

"Give  my  love  to  Hester,"  said  Katharine,  as 
she  went  out.  "Oh,  don't  come  down;  I  know 
the  way." 

He  followed  her,  of  course,  and  let  her  out  him 
self.  It  was  past  twelve  o'clock,  and  she  felt  the 
sun  on  her  shoulders  as  she  turned  to  the  right  up 
Lafayette  Place,  and  she  breathed  the  sparkling 
air  with  a  sense  of  wild  delight.  It  was  so  fresh 
and  pure,  and  somehow  she  felt  as  though  she  had 
been  in  a  contaminating  atmosphere  during  the 
last  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 


CHAPTER   XL 

ALEXANDER  LAUDERDALE  JUNIOR  was  a  man 
of  regular  ways,  as  has  been  seen,  and  of  sternly 
regular  affections,  so  far  as  he  could  be  said  to 
have  any  at  all.  Most  people  were  rather  afraid 
of  him.  In  the  Trust  Company  which  occupied 
his  attention  he  was  the  executive  member,  and  it 
was  generally  admitted  that  it  owed  something  of 
its  exceptional  importance  to  his  superior  powers 
of  administration,  his  cast-iron  probity  and  his 
cold  energy  in  enforcing  regulations.  The  head 
quarters  of  the  Company  were  in  a  magnificent 
granite  building,  011  the  second  floor  at  the  front, 
and  Alexander  Junior  sat  all  day  long  in  a  spot 
less  and  speckless  office,  behind  a  highly  polished 
table  and  before  highly  polished  bookcases,  upon 
which  the  light  fell  in  the  daytime  through  the 
most  expensive  and  highly  polished  plate  glass 
windows,  and  on  winter  afternoons  from  glittering 
electric  brackets  and  chandeliers.  He  himself  was 
not  less  perfect  and  highly  polished  in  appearance 
than  his  surroundings.  He  was  like  one  of  those 
beautiful  models  of  machinery  which  work  silently 
and  accurately  all  day  long,  apparently  for  the 
223 


224  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

mere  satisfaction  of  feeling  their  own  wheels  and 
cranks  go  round,  behind  the  show  window  of  the 
shop  where  the  patent  is  owned,  producing  nothing, 
indeed,  save  a  keen  delight  in  the  soul  of  the 
admiring  mechanician. 

He  was  perfect  in  his  way.  It  was  enough  to 
catch  one  glimpse  of  him,  as  he  sat  in  his  office,  to 
be  sure  that  the  Trust  Company  could  be  trusted, 
that  the  widow's  portion  should  yield  her  the  small 
but  regular  interest  which  comforts  the  afflicted, 
and  that  the  property  of  the  squealing  and  still 
cradle-ridden  orphan  was  silently  rolling  up,  to  be 
a  joy  to  him  when  he  should  be  old  enough  to 
squander  it.  The  Trust  Company  was  not  a  new 
institution.  It  had  been  founded  in  the  dark  ages 
of  New  York  history,  by  just  such  men  as  Alex 
ander  Junior,  and  just  such  men  had  made  it  what 
it  now  was.  Indeed,  the  primeval  Lauderdale, 
whom  Charlotte  Slayback  called  Alexander  the 
Great,  had  been  connected  with  it  before  he  died, 
his  Scotch  birth  being  counted  to  him  for  right 
eousness,  though  his  speech  was  imputed  to  him 
for  sin.  Neither  of  his  sons  had,  however,  had 
anything  to  do  with  it,  nor  his  sons'  sons,  but 
his  great-grandson,  Alexander  the  Safe,  was  pre 
destined  from  his  childhood  to  be  the  very  man 
wanted  by  the  Company,  and  when  he  was  come  to 
years  of  even  greater  discretion  than  he  had  shown 
as  a  small  boy,  which  was  saying  much,  he  was 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  225 

formally  installed  behind  the  plate  glass  and  the 
very  shiny  furniture  of  the  office  he  had  occupied 
ever  since.  With  the  appearance  of  his  name  on 
the  Company's  reports  the  business  increased,  for 
in  the  public  mind  all  Lauderdales  were  as  one 
man,  and  that  one  man  was  Eobert  the  Rich,  who 
had  never  been  connected  with  any  speculation, 
and  who  was  commonly  said  to  own  half  New 
York.  Acute  persons  will  see  that  there  must 
have  been  some  exaggeration  about  the  latter  state 
ment,  but  as  a  mere  expression  it  did  not  lack 
force,  and  pleased  the  popular  mind.  It  mattered 
little  that  New  York  should  have  enough  halves  to 
be  distributed  amongst  a  considerable  number  of 
very  rich  men,  of  whom  precisely  the  same  thing 
was  said.  Robert  the  Rich  was  a  very  rich  man, 
and  he  must  have  his  half  like  his  fellow  rich  men. 
Alexander  Junior  had  no  more  claim  upon  his 
uncle's  fortune  than  Mrs.  Ralston.  His  father 
was  one  of  Robert's  brothers  and  hers  had  been 
the  other.  Nor  was  Robert  the  Rich  in  any  way 
constrained  to  leave  any  money  to  any  of  his  rela 
tions,  nor  to  any  one  in  particular  in  the  whole 
wide  world,  seeing  that  he  had  made  it  himself, 
and  was  childless  and  answerable  to  no  man  for 
his  acts.  But  it  was  probable  that  he  would  divide 
a  large  part  of  it  between  his  living  brother,  the 
philanthropist,  and  the  daughter  of  his  dead 
brother  Ralph  —  the  soldier  of  the  family,  who 


226  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

had  been  killed  at  Chancellorsville.  Now  as  it 
was  certain  that  the  philanthropist,  for  his  part, 
if  he  had  control  of  what  came  to  him,  would  forth 
with  attempt  to  buy  the  Central  Park  as  an  airing 
ground  for  pauper  idiots,  or  do  something  equally 
though  charitably  outrageous,  the  chances  were 
that  his  portion  —  if  he  got  any  —  would  be  placed 
in  trust,  or  that  it  would  be  paid  him  as  income  by 
his  son,  if  the  latter  were  selected  to  manage  the 
fortune.  This  was  what  most  people  expected, 
and  it  was  certainly  what  Alexander  Junior  hoped. 

It  was  natural,  toox  and  in  a  measure  just.  The 
male  line  of  the  Lauderdales  was  dying  out,  and 
Alexander  Junior  would  be  the  last  of  them,  in 
the  natural  succession  of  mortality,  being  by  far 
the  youngest  as  he  was  by  far  the  strongest.  It 
would  be  proper  that  he  should  administer  the 
estate  until  it  was  finally  divided  amongst  the 
female  heirs  and  their  children. 

He  was  really  and  truly  a  man  of  spotless  pro 
bity,  in  spite  of  the  suspicion  which  almost  inevi 
tably  attaches  to  people  who  seem  too  perfect  to 
be  human.  On  the  surface  these  perfections  of 
his  were  so  hard  that  they  amounted  to  defects. 
It  is  aggressive  virtue  that  chastises  what  it  loves 
—  by  its  mere  existence.  But  neither  his  probity, 
nor  his  exterior  mechanical  superiority,  so  to  say, 
was  connected  with  the  mainspring  of  his  char 
acter.  That  lay  much  deeper,  and  he  concealed  it 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  227 

with  as  much  skill  as  though  to  reveal  its  existence 
would  have  ruined  him  in  fortune  and  reputation, 
though  it  would  probably  have  affected  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other.  The  only  members  of  the  fam 
ily  who  suspected  the  truth  were  his  daughter 
Charlotte  and  Robert  the  Rich. 

Charlotte,  who  was  afraid  of  nothing,  not  even 
of  certain  things  which  she  might  have  done  better 
to  respect,  if  not  to  fear,  said  openly  in  the  family, 
and  even  to  the  face  of  her  father,  that  she  did  not 
believe  he  was  poor.  Thereupon,  Alexander  Junior 
usually  administered  a  stern  rebuke  in  his  metallic 
voice,  whereat  Charlotte  would  smile  and  change 
the  subject,  as  though  she  did  not  care  to  talk  of 
it  just  then,  but  would  return  to  it  by  and  by.  She 
had  magnificent  teeth,  and,  when  she  chose,  her 
smile  could  be  almost  as  terribly  electric  as  Alex 
ander's  own. 

As  for  Robert  Lauderdale,  he  had  more  accurate 
knowledge,  but  not  much.  Like  many  eminently 
successful  men  he  had  an  unusual  mastery  of 
details,  and  an  unfailing  memory  for  those  which 
interested  him.  He  knew  the  exact  figure  of  his 
nephew's  salary  from  the  Trust  Company,  and  he 
was  able  to  calculate  with  tolerable  exactness,  also, 
what  the  Lauderdales  spent,  what  Mrs.  Lauderdale 
earned  and  how  much  the  annual  surplus  must  be. 
He  knew  also  that  Alexander  Junior's  mother, 
who  had  thoroughly  understood  her  husband,  the 


228  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

philanthropist,  had  left  what  she  possessed  to  her 
only  son,  and  only  a  legacy  to  her  husband.  Her 
property  had  been  owned  in  New  England ;  the 
executor  had  been  a  peculiarly  taciturn  Xew  Eng 
land  lawyer,  and  Alexander  had  never  said  any 
thing  to  any  one  else  concerning  the  inheritance. 
His  mother  had  died  after  he  had  come  of  age,  but 
before  he  had  been  married,  and  there  were  no 
means  whatever  of  ascertaining  what  he  had  re 
ceived.  The  philanthropist  and  his  son  had  con 
tinued  to  live  together,  as  they  still  did ;  but  the 
old  gentleman  had  always  left  household  matters 
and  expenses  in  his  wife's  charge,  and  had  never 
in  the  least  understood,  nor  cared  to  understand, 
the  details  of  daily  life.  He  had  his  two  rooms, 
he  had  enough  to  eat  and  he  spent  nothing  on 
himself,  except  for  the  large  quantity  of  tobacco 
he  consumed  and  for  his  very  modest  toilet.  As 
for  the  cigars,  Alexander  had  brought  him  down, 
in  the  course  of  ten  years,  by  very  fine  gradations, 
from  the  best  Havanas  which  money  could  buy  to 
'  old  Virginia  cheroots,'  at  ten  cents  for  a  package 
of  five,  —  a  luxury  which  even  the  frugal  inhabi 
tant  of  Calabrian  Mulberry  Street  would  consider 
a  permissible  extravagance  on  Sundays.  Alexan 
der,  who  did  not  smoke,  saw  that  the  change  had 
not  had  any  ill  effect  upon  his  father's  health,  and 
silently  triumphed.  If  the  old  gentleman's  nerves 
had  shown  signs  of  weakness,  Alexander  had  pre- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  229 

viously  determined  to  retire  up  the  scale  of  prices 
to  the  extent  of  one  cent  more  for  each  cigar.  In 
the  matter  of  dress  the  elder  Alexander  pleased 
himself,  and  in  so  doing  pleased  his  son  also,  for 
he  generally  forgot  to  get  a  new  coat  until  the  old 
one  was  dropping  to  pieces,  and  he  secretly  bought 
his  shoes  of  a  little  Italian  shoemaker  in  the  South 
Fifth  Avenue,  as  has  been  already  noticed ;  the 
said  shoemaker  being  the  unhappy  father  of  one  of 
the  philanthropist's  most  favourite  and  unpromis 
ing  idiots. 

But  of  old  Mrs.  Lauderdale's  money,  nothing 
more  was  ever  heard,  nor  of  several  thousand 
dollars  yearly,  which,  according  to  old  Robert's 
calculations,  Alexander  Junior  saved  regularly  out 
of  his  salary. 

Yet  the  youngest  of  the  Lauderdale  men  was 
always  poor,  and  his  wife  worked  as  hard  as  she 
could  to  earn  something  for  her  own  little  pleasures 
and  luxuries.  Robert  the  Rich  had  once  been 
present  when  Alexander  Junior  had  borrowed  five 
dollars  of  his  wife.  It  had  impressed  him,  and  he 
had  idly  wondered  whether  the  money  had  ever 
been  returned,  and  whether  Alexander  did  not 
manage  in  this  way  to  extract  a  contribution  from 
his  wife's  earnings,  as  a  sort  of  peace-offering  to 
the  gold-gods,  because  she  wasted  what  she  got  by 
such  hard  work,  in  mere  amusement  and  hats,  as 
Alexander  cruelly  put  it.  But  Robert,  who  had 


230  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

a  broader  soul,  thought  she  was  quite  right,  since, 
next  to  true  love,  those  were  the  things  by  which 
a  woman  could  be  made  most  happy.  It  is  true 
that  Robert  the  Rich  had  never  been  married.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  Alexander  Lauderdale  never  re 
turned  the  small  sums  he  succeeded  in  borrowing 
from  his  wife  from  time  to  time.  But  he  kept  a 
rigidly  accurate  account  of  them,  which  he  showed 
her  occasionally,  assuring  her  that  she  'might 
draw  on  him'  for  the  money,  and  that  he  cred 
ited  her  with  five  per  cent  interest  so  long  as 
it  was  'in  his  hands'  —  which  were  of  iron,  as  she 
knew  —  and  further,  that  it  would  be  to  her  advan 
tage  to  invest  all  the  money  she  earned  in  the 
same  way,  with  him.  A  hundred  dollars,  he  said, 
would  double  itself  in  fourteen  years,  and  in  time 
it  would  become  a  thousand,  which  would  be  'a, 
nice  little  sum  for  her.'  He  had  a  set  of  expres 
sions  which  he  used  in  speaking  of  money,  where 
with  he  irritated  her  exceedingly.  More  than 
once  she  asked  him  to  give  her  a  trifle  out  of  what 
she  had  lent  him,  when  she  was  in  a  hurry,  or 
really  had  nothing.  But  he  invariably  answered 
that  he  had  nothing  about  him,  as  he  always  paid 
everything  by  cheque,  —  which  was  true,  —  and 
never  spent  but  ten  cents  daily  for  his  fare  in  the 
elevated  road  to  and  from  his  office.  He  lunched 
somewhere,  she  supposed,  during  the  day,  and 
would  need  money  for  that ;  but  in  this  she  was 


KATHARINE  LAUDEKDALE.  231 

mistaken,  for  his  strong  constitution  needed  but 
two  meals  daily,  breakfast  at  eight  and  dinner  at 
half-past  seven.  At  one  o'clock  he  drank  a  glass 
of  water  in  his .  office,  and  in  fine  weather  took  a 
turn  in  Broad  Street  or  Broadway.  He  sometimes, 
if  hard  pressed  by  her,  said  that  he  would  include 
what  she  wanted  in  the  next  cheque  he  drew  for 
household  expenses  —  and  he  examined  the  ac 
counts  himself  every  Saturday  afternoon  —  but 
he  always  managed  to  be  alone  when  he  did  this, 
and  invariably  forgot  to  make  any  allowance  for 
the  purpose  of  paying  his  just  debts. 

Robert  Lauderdale  knew,  therefore,  that  there 
must  be  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  somewhere, 
the  property  of  Alexander  Junior,  unless  the  latter 
had  privately  squandered  it.  This,  however,  was 
a  supposition  which  not  even  the  most  hopelessly 
moonstruck  little  boy  in  the  philanthropist's  pet 
asylum  would  have  entertained  for  a  moment. 
The  rich  man  had  watched  his  nephew  narrowly 
from  his  boyhood  to  his  middle  age,  and  was  a 
knower  of  men  and  a  good  judge  of  them,  and  he 
was  quite  sure  that  he  was  not  mistaken.  More 
over,  he  knew  likewise  Alexander's  strict  adherence 
to  the  letter  of  truth,  for  he  had  proved  it  many 
times,  and  Alexander  had  never  said  that  he  had 
no  money.  But  he  never  failed  to  say  that  he  was 
poor — which  was  a  relative  term.  He  would  go 
so  far  as  to  say  that  he  had  no  money  for  a  par- 


232      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

ticular  object,  clearly  meaning  that  he  would  not 
spend  anything  in  that  direction,  but  he  had  never 
said  that  he  had  nothing.  Now  the  great  Robert 
was  not  the  man  to  call  a  sum  of  several  hundred 
thousands  a  nothing,  because  he  had  so  much  more 
himself.  He  knew  the  value  of  money  as  well  as 
any  man  living.  He  used  to  say  that  to  give  was 
a  matter  of  sentiment,  but  that  to  have  was  a 
matter  of  fact,  —  probably  meaning  thereby  that  the 
relation  between  length  of  head  and  breadth  of 
heart  was  indeterminate,  but  that  although  a  man 
might  not  have  fifty  millions,  if  he  had  half  a 
million  he  was  well  enough  off  to  be  able  to  give 
something  to  somebody,  if  he  chose.  But  Robert 
the  Rich  was  fond  of  rather  enigmatical  sayings. 
He  had  seen  the  world  from  quite  an  exceptional 
point  of  view  and  believed  that  he  had  a  right  to 
judge  it  accordingly. 

He  had  watched  his  nephew  during  more  than 
thirty  years,  and  one  half  of  that  period  had 
sufficed  to  bring  him  to  the  conclusion  that  Alex 
ander  Junior  was  a  thoroughly  upright  but  a  thor 
oughly  miserly  person,  and  the  remaining  half  of 
the  time  had  so  far  confirmed  this  judgment  as  to 
make  him  own  that  the  younger  man  was  not  only 
miserly,  but  in  the  very  most  extended  sense  an  old- 
fashioned  miser  in  the  midst  of  a  new-fashioned 
civilization,  and  therefore  an  anachronism,  and 
therefore,  also,  not  a  man  to  be  treated  like  other 
men. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  233 

Robert  had  long  ago  determined  that  Alexander 
should  have  some  of  the  money  to  do  with  as  he 
pleased.  His  sole  idea  would  be  to  hoard  it  and 
pile  it  up  to  fabulous  dimensions,  and  if  anything 
happened  to  it  he  would  probably  go  mad,  thought 
the  great  man.  But  the  others  were  also  to  have 
some  of  it,  more  or  less  according  to  their  charac 
ters,  and  it  was  interesting  to  speculate  upon  their 
probable  actions  when  they  should  be  very  rich. 
None  of  them,  Kobert  believed,  were  really  poor, 
and  certainly  Alexander  Junior  was  not.  If  they 
had  been  in  need,  the  old  gentleman  would  have 
helped  them  with  actual  sums  of  money.  But 
they  were  not.  As  for  Mrs.  Lauderdale  and  her 
daughters,  they  really  had  all  that  was  necessary. 
Alexander  did  not  starve  them.  He  did  not  go  so 
far  as  that  —  perhaps  because  in  his  social  position 
it  would  have  been  found  out.  His  wife  was  an 
excellent  housekeeper,  and  old  Robert  liked  the 
simplicity  of  the  little  dinners  to  which  he  occa 
sionally  came  without  warning,  asking  for  <a 
bite,'  as  though  he  were  a  poor  relation.  He 
loved  what  was  simple  and,  in  general,  all  things 
which  could  be  loved  for  their  own  sake,  and  .not 
for  their  value,  and  which  were  not  beyond  his 
rather  limited  sesthetic  appreciation. 

It  was  a  very  good  thing,  he  thought,  that  Mrs. 
Lauderdale  should  do  a  little  work  and  earn  a 
little  money.  It  was  an  interest  and  an  occupation 


234  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

for  her.  It  was  fitting  that  people  should  be  will 
ing  to  do  something  to  earn  money  for  their  chari 
ties,  or  even  for  their  smaller  luxuries,  though  it 
was  very  desirable  that  they  should  not  feel  obliged 
to  work  for  their  necessities.  If  everybody  were 
in  that  position,  he  supposed  that  every  one  would 
be  far  happier.  And  Mrs.  Lauderdale  had  her 
beauty,  too.  Robert  the  Rich  was  fond  of  her  in  a 
fatherly  way,  and  knowing  what  a  good  woman  she 
was,  he  had  determined  to  make  her  a  compensation 
when  she  should  lose  her  good  looks.  When  her 
beauty  departed,  she  should  be  made  rich,  and  he 
would  manage  it  in  such  a  way  that  her  husband 
should  not  be  able  to  get  hold  of  any  of  her  wealth, 
to  bury  with  what  Robert  was  sure  he  had,  in  se 
cret  and  profitable  investment.  Alexander  Junior 
should  have  none  of  it. 

As  for  his  elder  brother,  the  philanthropist, 
Robert  Lauderdale  had  his  own  theories.  He  did 
not  think  that  the  old  man's  charities  were  by  any 
means  always  wise  ones,  and  he  patronized  others 
of  his  own,  of  which  he  said  nothing.  Robert 
thought  that  too  much  was  done  for  the  deserving 
poor,  and  too  little  for  the  undeserving  poor,  and 
that  the  starving  sinner  might  be  just  as  hungry 
as  the  starving  saint  —  a  point  of  view  not  popular 
with  the  righteous,  who  covet  the  unjust  man's 
sunshine  for  themselves  and  accuse  hiin  unfairly 
of  bringing  about  cloudy  weather,  though  every  one 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  235 

knows  that  clouds,  even  the  very  blackest,  are 
produced  by  natural  evaporation. 

But  it  was  improbable,  as  Robert  knew,  that  his 
brother  should  outlive  him,  and  he  contributed 
liberally  to  the  support  and  education  of  the  idiots, 
and  his  brother  was  mentioned  in  the  will  in  con 
nection  with  a  large  annuity  which,  however,  he 
had  little  chance  of  surviving  to  enjoy. 

There  were  plenty  of  others  to  divide  the  vast 
inheritance  when  the  time  should  come.  There 
were  Mrs.  Lauderdale  and  her  two  daughters,  and 
her  baby  grandson,  Charlotte's  little  boy.  And 
there  was  Katharine  Ralston  and  there  was  John. 
And  then  there  were  the  two  Brights  and  their 
mother,  whose  mother  had  been  a  Lauderdale,  so 
that  they  were  direct  relations.  And  there  were 
the  Miners  —  the  three  old-maid  sisters  and  little 
Frank  Miner,  who  really  seemed  to  be  struggling 
hard  to  make  a  living  by  literature  —  not  near 
connections,  these  Miners,  but  certainly  included  in 
the  tribe  of  the  Lauderdales  on  account  of  their 
uncle's  marriage  with  the  millionaire's  first  cousin 
—  whom  he  remembered  as  'little  cousin  Meg'  fifty 
years  ago.  Robert  the  Rich  always  smiled  —  a 
little  sadly  —  when  he  reached  this  point  in  the 
enumeration  of  the  family,  and  was  glad  that  the 
Miners  were  in  his  will. 

The  Miners  would  really  have  been  the  poorest 
of  the  whole  connection,  for  their  father  had  been 


236  KATHARINE  LAUDEIWALE. 

successively  a  spendthrift  bankrupt,  a  drunkard 
and  a  lunatic,  — which  caused  Alexander  Junior  to 
say  severely  that  Livingston  Miner  had  an  unnatural 
thirst  for  emotions;  but  a  certain  very  small  invest 
ment  which  Frank  Miner  had  made  out  of  the 
remnants  of  the  estate  had  turned  out  wonderfully 
well.  Miner  had  never  known  that  old  Lauder- 
dale  had  mentioned  the  investment  to  old  Beman, 
and  that  the  two  great  men  had  found  the  time  to 
make  it  roll  over  and  over  and  grow  into  a  little 
fortune  at  a  rate  which  would  have  astonished 
persons  ignorant  of  business  —  after  which  they 
had  been  occupied  with  other  things,  each  in  his 
own  way,  and  had  thought  nothing  more  about  the 
matter.  So  that  the  Miners  were  comparatively 
comfortable,  and  the  three  old  maids  stayed  at  home 
and  '  took  care '  of  their  extremely  healthy  brother 
instead  of  going  out  as  governesses  —  and  when 
they  were  well  stricken  in  old-maidhood  they  had 
a  queer  little  love  story  all  to  themselves,  whicli 
perhaps  will  be  told  some  day  by  itself. 

The  rich  man  made  few  presents,  for  he  had  few 
wants,  and  did  not  understand  them  in  others.  He 
was  none  the  less  on  that  account  a  generous  man, 
and  would  often  have  given,  had  he  known  what  to 
give;  but  those  who  expressed  their  wishes  were 
apt  to  offend  him  by  expressing  them  too  clearly. 
The  relations  all  lived  in  good  houses  and  had  an 
abundance  of  bread  and  a  sufficient  allowance  of 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  237 

butter,  and  John  Ealston  was  the  only  one  in  con 
nection  with  whom  he  had  heard  mention  of  a 
tailor's  bill  —  John  Ealston  was  more  in  the  old 
gentleman's  mind  than  any  one  knew.  What  did 
the  others  all  want  ?  Jewels,  perhaps,  and  horses 
and  carriages  and  a  lot  of  loose  cash  to  throw  out  of 
the  window.  That  was  the  way  he  put  it.  He  had 
never  kept  a  brougham  himself  until  he  was  fifty 
years  of  age.  It  was  true  that  he  had  no  woman 
kind  and  was  a  strong  man,  like  all  his  tribe.  But 
then,  many  of  his  acquaintances  who  might  have 
kept  a  dozen  horses,  said  it  was  more  trouble  than 
it  was  worth,  and  hired  what  they  wanted.  His 
relations  could  do  the  same  —  it  was  a  mere 
curiosity  on  their  part  to  experience  the  sensation 
of  looking  rich.  Robert  Lauderdale  knew  the 
sensation  very  well  and  knew  that  it  was  quite 
worthless.  Of  course,  he  thought,  they  all  knew 
that  at  his  death  they  would  be  provided  for  — 
even  lazy  Jack,  as  he  mentally  nicknamed 
Ealston.  At  least,  he  supposed  that  they  knew  it. 
They  should  have  a  fair  share  of  the  money  in  the 
end. 

But  he  was  conscious,  and  acutely  conscious,  that 
most  of  them  wanted  it,  and  he  had  very  little 
belief  in  the  disinterested. affection  of  any  of  them. 
Even  the  old  philanthropist,  if  he  had  been  offered 
the  chance  by  a  playful  destiny,  would  have  laid 
violent  hands  on  it  all  for  his  charities,  to  the 


238  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

exclusion   of  the   whole  family.      His   son  would 
have   buried   it   in  his  own  Trust  Company,  and 
longed  to  have  it   for  that   purpose,  and  for  no 
other.     Jack  Ralston  wanted  to  squander  it ;  Ham 
ilton  Bright  wanted  to  do  banking  with  it  and  to 
out-Rothschild  the  Rothschilds  in  the  exchanges 
of   the  world.      Crowdie,  whom  Robert  the  Rich 
detested,  wanted  his  wife  to  have  it  in  order  that 
he  might  build  marble  palaces  with  it  on  the  shores 
of  more  or  less  mythic  lakes.      Katharine  Ralston 
would  have  liked  some  of  it  because  she  liked  to  be 
above  all  considerations  of  money,  and  her  husband's 
death  had  made  a  great  difference  in  her  income. 
Mrs.  Lauderdale  wanted  it,  of  course,  and  her  ideal 
of  happiness  would  be  realized  in  having  three  or 
four  princely  establishments,  in  moving  with  the 
seasons  from  one  to  the  other  and  in  always  having 
her  house  full  of  guests.    She  was  born  in  Kentucky 
—  and  she  would  be  a  superb  hostess.    Perhaps  she 
should  have  a  chance  some  day.     Charlotte  Slay- 
back  wanted  as  much  as  she  could  get  because  her 
husband  was  rich,  and  she  had  nothing,  and  she  had 
good  blood  in  her  veins,  but  an  abundance  of  evil 
pride  in  her  heart.     There  was  Katharine  Lauder 
dale,  about  whom  the  great  man   was  undecided. 
He  liked  her  and   thought   she   understood   him. 
But  of  course  she  wanted  the  money  too  —  in  order 
to  marry  lazy  Jack  —  and  wake  up  love's  young 
dream  with  a  jump,  as  he  expressed  it  familiarly. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  239 

She  should  not  have  it  for  that  purpose,  at  all 
events.  It  would  be  much  better  that  she  should 
marry  Hamilton  Bright,  who  was  a  sensible  fellow. 
Had  not  Ealston  been  offered  two  chances,  at  both 
of  which  he  had  pitiably  failed  ?  He  had  no  idea  of 
doing  anything  more  for  the  boy  at  present.  If  he 
ever  got  any  of  the  money  it  should  be  from  his 
mother.  The  two  Katharines  were  out  and  out  the 
best  of  the  tribe.  He  had  a  great  mind  to  tear  up 
his  old  will  and  divide  the  whole  fortune  equally 
between  Katharine  Ralston  and  Katharine  Lauder- 
dale.  No  doubt  there  would  be  a  dispute  about 
the  will  in  any  case  —  he  might  just  as  well  follow 
his  inclinations,  if  he  could  not  prevent  fighting. 

And  then,  when  he  reached  that  point,  he  was 
suddenly  checked  by  a  consideration  which  does 
not  present  itself  to  ordinary  men.  As  he  leaned 
back  in  his  leathern  writing  chair,  while  his  knotted 
fingers  played  with  the  cork  pen-holder  he  used, 
his  great  head  slowly  bowed  itself,  and  he  sat  long 
in  deep  thought. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  him  to  play  at  being  just 
a  capricious  old  uncle  with  some  money  to  leave,  as 
he  pleased,  to  this  one  or  that  one,  as  old  uncles 
did  in  story  books,  making  everybody  happy  in 
the  end.  That  was  all  very  well.  He  had  his 
little  likes  and  dislikes,  his  attachments  and  his 
detestations,  and  he  had  a  right  to  have  them, 
as  smaller  men  had.  A  little  here  and  a  little 


240  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

there  would  of  course  give  pleasure  and  might 
even  make  happiness.  But  how  much  would  it 
need  to  make  them  all  rich,  compared  with  their 
present  position  ?  Robert  Lauderdale  did  not 
laugh  as  he  answered  the  question  to  himself. 
One  year's  income  alone,  divided  amongst  them, 
would  give  each  a  fortune.  The  income  of  two 
years  would  give  them  wealth.  And  the  capital 
would  remain  —  the  vast  possession  which  in  a  few 
years  he  must  lay  down  forever,  which  at  any 
moment  might  be  masterless,  for  he  was  an  old 
man,  over  seventy  years  of  age.  If  he  had  a  son, 
it  would  be  different.  Things  would  follow  their 
natural  course  for  good  or  evil,  and  he  would 
not  himself  be  to  blame  for  what  happened.  But 
he  had  no  one,  and  the  thing  he  must  leave  to 
some  one  was  great  power  in  its  most  serviceable 
form  —  money. 

He  had  been  face  to  face  with  the  problem  for 
years  and  had  not  solved  it.  It  is  a  great  one  in 
America,  at  the  present  day,  and  Robert  Lauderdale 
knew  it.  He  was  well  aware  that  he  and  a  score 
of  others,  some  richer,  some  less  rich  than  himself, 
were  execrated  by  a  certain  proportion  of  the  com 
munity  and  pointed  out  as  the  disturbers  of  the 
equal  distribution  of  wealth.  He  was  made  per 
sonally  sure  of  the  fact  by  hundreds  of  letters, 
anonymous  and  signed,  warning  him  of  the 
approaching  destruction  of  himself  and  his  prop- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  241 

erty.  People  who  did  not  even  know  that  he  was 
a  bachelor,  threatened  to  kidnap  his  children  and 
keep  them  from  him  until  he  should  give  up  his 
wealth.  He  was  threatened,  entreated,  admonished, 
preached  at  and  held  up  to  ridicule  by  every  species 
of  fanatic  which  the  age  produces.  He  was  Hot 
afraid  of  any  of  them.  He  did  not  have  himself 
guarded  by  detectives  in  plain  clothes  and  athletes 
in  fashionable  coats,  when  he  chose  to  walk  in  the 
streets,  and  he  did  not  yield  to  the  entreaties  of 
women  who  wrote  to  him  from  Texas  that  they 
should  be  perfectly  happy  if  he  would  send  them 
grand  pianos  to  the  addresses  they  gave.  He  was 
discriminating,  he  was  just  according  to  his  light 
and  he  tried  to  do  good,  while  he  took  no  notice 
of  those  who  raved  and  abused  him.  But  he  knew 
that  there  was  a  reason  for  the  storm,  and  was 
much  more  keenly  alive  to  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation  than  any  of  his  anonymous  correspondents. 
He  had  in  his  own  hands  and  at  his  absolute  dis 
posal  the  wealth  which,  under  a  proper  administra 
tion,  would  perpetually  supply  between  seven  and 
eight  thousand  families  with  the  necessaries  of 
life.  He  had  made  that  calculation  one  day,  not 
idly,  but  in  the  endeavour  to  realize  what  could 
really  be  done  with  so  much  money.  He  was  not 
a  visionary  philanthropist  like  his  brother,  though 
he  helped  him  in  many  of  his  schemes.  He  was 
not  a  saint,  though  he  was  a  good  man,  as  men  go. 


242  KATHARINE  LAU  DEED  ALE. 

He  had  not  the  smallest  intention  of  devoting  a 
gigantic  fortune  exclusively  to  the  bettering  of 
mankind,  for  he  was  human.  But  he  felt  that  in 
his  lonely  wealth  he  was  in  a  measure  under  an 
obligation  to  all  humanity  —  that  he  had  created 
for  himself  a  responsibility  greater  than  one  man 
could  bear,  and  that  he  and  others  like  him  had 
raised  a  question,  and  proposed  a  problem  which 
had  not  before  been  dreamt  of  in  the  history  of 
the  world.  He,  an  individual  with  no  especial 
gifts  besides  his  keen  judgment  in  a  certain  class  of 
affairs,  with  nothing  but  his  wealth  to  distinguish 
him  from  any  other  individual,  possessed  the  equiv 
alent  of  a  sum  of  money  which  would  have  seemed 
very  large  in  the  treasury  of  a  great  nation,  or 
winch  would  have  been  considered  sufficient  as  a 
reserve  wherewith  to  enter  upon  a  great  war.  And 
there  were  others  in  an  exactly  similar  position. 
He  knew  several  of  them.  He  could  count  half 
a  dozen  men  who,  together  with  himself,  could 
upset  the  finances  of  the  world  if  they  chose.  It 
needed  no  tortuous  reasoning  and  but  little  vanity 
to  show  him  that  he  and  they  did  not  stand  towards 
mankind  as  other  men  stood.  And  the  thought 
brought  with  it  the  certainty  that  there  was  a 
right  course  for  him  to  pursue  in  the  disposal  of 
his  money,  if  he  could  but  see  it  in  the  right  light. 
This  was  the  man  whom  all  the  Lauderdale  tribe 
called  uncle  Robert,  and  to  whom  Katharine  in- 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  243 

tended  to  appeal  as  soon  as  she  had  been  secretly 
married  to  John  Ralston,  and  from  whom  she  felt 
sure  of  obtaining  what  she  meant  to  ask.  He  was 
•capable  of  surprising  her. 

'  You  have  a  good  house,  good  food,  good  clothes 
—  and  so  has  your  husband.  What  right  have  you, 
Katharine  Lauderdale,  or  Mrs.  John  Ealston,  to 
claim  more  than  any  member  of  each  of  the  seven 
or  eight  thousand  families  whom  I  could  support 
would  get  in  the  distribution  ?  ' 

That  was  the  answer  she  might  receive  —  in  the 
form  of  a  rather  unanswerable  question. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  afternoon  which  followed  the  first  sitting  in 
Crowdie's  studio  seemed  very  long  to  Katharine. 
She  did  all  sorts  of  things  to  make  the  time  pass, 
but  it  would  not.  She  even  set  in  order  a  whole 
drawer  full  of  ribbons  and  gloves  and  veils  and 
other  trifles,  which  is  generally  the  very  last  thing 
a  woman  does  to  get  rid  of  the  hours. 

And  all  the  time  she  was  thinking,  and  not  sure 
whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  fight  against  her 
thoughts.  For  though  she  was  not  afraid  of  chang 
ing  her  mind  she  had  a  vague  consciousness  that 
the  whole  question  might  raise  its  head  again  and 
face  her  like  a  thing  in  a  dream,  and  insist  that 
she  should  argue  with  it.  And  then,  there  was  the 
plain  and  unmistakable  fact  that  she  was  on  the 
eve  of  doing  something  which  was  hardly  ever 
done  by  the  people  amongst  whom  she  lived. 

It  was  not  that  she  was  timid,  or  dreaded  the 
remarks  which  might  be  made.  Any  timidity  of 
that  sort  would  have  checked  her  at  the  very  out 
set.  If  the  man  she  loved  had  been  any  one  but 
Jack  Ralston,  whom  she  had  known  all  her  life, 
she  could  never  have  thought  of  proposing  such  a 
244 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  245 

thing.  Oddly  enough,  she  felt  that  she  should 
blush,  as  she  had  blushed  that  morning  at  the 
studio,  at  the  mere  idea  of  a  secret  marriage,  if 
Ralston  were  any  one  else.  But  not  from  any  fear 
of  what  other  people  might  say.  Not  only  had  the 
two  been  intimate  from  childhood  —  they  had  dis 
cussed  during  the  last  year  their  marriage,  and  all 
the  possibilities  of  it,  from  every  point  of  view. 
It  was  a  subject  familiar  to  them,  the  difficulties 
to  be  overcome  were  clear  to  them  both,  they  had 
proposed  all  manner  of  schemes  for  overcoming 
them,  they  had  talked  for  hours  about  running 
away  together  and  had  been  sensible  enough  to  see 
the  folly  of  such  a  thing.  The  mere  matter  of  say 
ing  certain  words  and  of  giving  and  receiving  a 
ring  had  gradually  sunk  into  insignificance  as  an 
event.  It  was  an  inevitable  formality  in  Ealston's 
eyes,  to  be  gone  through  with  scrupulous  exactness 
indeed,  and  to  be  carefully  recorded  and  witnessed, 
but  there  was  not  a  particle  of  romance  connected 
with  it,  any  more  than  with  the  signing  and  wit 
nessing  of  a  title-deed  or  any  other  legal  document. 
Katharine  had  a  somewhat  different  opinion  of 
it,  for  it  had  a  real  religious  value  in  her  eyes. 
That  was  one  reason  why  she  preferred  a  secret 
wedding.  Of  course,  the  moment  would  come, 
sooner  or  later,  for  they  were  sure  to  be  married  in 
the  end,  publicly  or  privately.  But  in  any  case  it 
would  be  a  solemn  moment.  The  obligations,  as 


246  KATHARINE  LAUDEKDALE. 

she  viewed  them,  were  for  life.  The  very  words  of 
the  promise  had  an  imposing  simplicity.  In  the 
church  to  which  she  strongly  inclined,  marriage 
was  called  a  sacrament,  and  believed  to  be  one,  in 
which  the  presence  of  the  Divine  personally  sancti 
fied  the  bond  of  the  human.  Katharine  was  quite 
willing  to  believe  that,  too.  And  the  more  she 
believed  it,  the  more  she  hated  the  idea  of  a  great 
fashionable  wedding,  such  as  Charlotte  Slayback 
had  endured  with  much  equanimity.  She  could 
imagine  nothing  more  disagreeable,  even  painful, 
than  to  be  the  central  figure  of  such  an  exhibition. 

That  holy  hour,  when  it  came  at  last,  should  be 
holy  indeed.  There  should  be  nothing,  ever  there 
after,  to  disturb  the  pure  memory  of  its  sanctity. 
A  quiet  church,  the  man  she  loved,  herself  and  the 
interpreter  of  God.  That  was  all  she  wanted  — 
not  to  be  disturbed  in  the  greatest  event  of  her  life 
by  all  the  rustling,  glittering,  flower-scented,  grin 
ning,  gossiping  crowd  of  critics,  whose  ridiculous 
presence  is  considered  to  lend  marriage  a  dignity 
beyond  what  God  or  nature  could  bestow  upon  it. 

This  was  Katharine's  view,  and  as  she  had  no 
intention  of  keeping  her  marriage  to  Ralston  a 
secret  during  even  so  much  as  twenty-four  hours, 
it  was  neither  unnatural  nor  unjustifiable.  But  in 
spite  of  all  the  real  importance  which  she  gave  to 
the  ceremony  as  a  fact,  it  seemed  so  much  a  matter 
of  course,  and  she  had  thought  of  it  so  long  and 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  247 

under  so  many  aspects,  that  in  the  chain  of  future 
events  it  was  merely  a  link  to  be  reached  and 
passed  as  soon  as  possible.  It  was  not  the  ring, 
nor  the  promise  nor  the  blessing,  by  which  her 
life  was  to  be  changed.  She  knew  that  she  loved 
John  Ralston,  and  she  could  not  love  him  better 
still  from  the  instant  in  which  he  became  her  law 
ful  husband.  The  difficulties  began  beyond  that, 
with  her  intended  attack  upon  uncle  Robert.  She 
told  herself  that  she  was  sure  of  success,  but  she 
was  not,  since  she  could  not  see  into  the  future  one 
hour  beyond  the  moment  of  her  meeting  with  the 
old  gentleman.  That  seeing  into  the  future  is  the 
test  of  confidence,  and  the  only  one. 

It  struck  her  suddenly  that  everything  which 
was  to  happen  after  the  all-important  interview 
was  a  blank  to  her.  She  paused  in  what  she  was 
doing  —  she  was  winding  a  yellow  ribbon  round 
her  finger  —  and  she  looked  out  of  the  window. 
It  was  raining,  for  the  weather  had  changed 
quickly  during  the  afternoon.  Rain  in  Clinton 
Place  is  particularly  dreary.  Katharine  sat  down 
upon  the  chair  that  stood  before  her  little  writing 
table  in  the  corner  by  the  window,  and  watched 
the  grey  lace  veil  which  the  falling  raindrops  wove 
between  her  and  the  red  brick  houses  opposite. 

A  feeling  of  despair  came  over  her.  Uncle 
Robert  would  refuse  to  do  anything.  What  would 
happen  then  ?  What  could  she  do  ?  She  was 


248  KATHARINE  LAUDE1WALE. 

brave  enough  to  face  her  father's  anger  and  her 
mother's  distress,  for  she  loved  Kalston  with  all 
her  heart.  But  what  would  happen  ?  If  uncle 
Robert  failed  her,  the  future  was  no  longer  blank 
but  black.  No  one  else  could  do  anything.  Of 
what  use  would  the  family  battle  be  ?  Her  father 
could  not,  and  would  not,  do  anything  for  her  or 
her  husband.  He  was  the  sort  of  man  who  would 
take  a  stern  delight  in  seeing  her  bear  the  conse 
quences  of  her  mistake  —  it  could  not  be  called  a 
fault,  even  by  him.  To  impose  herself  on  Mrs. 
Ralston  was  more  than  Katharine's  pride  could 
endure  to  contemplate.  Of  course,  it  would  be 
possible  to  live  —  barely  to  live  —  on  the  charity 
of  her  husband's  mother.  Mrs.  Ralston  would  do 
anything  for  her  son,  and  would  sacrifice  herself 
cheerfully.  But  to  accept  any  such  sacrifice  was 
out  of  the  question.  And  then,  too,  Katharine 
knew  what  extreme  economy  meant,  for  she  had 
suffered  from  it  long  under  her  father's  roof,  and  it 
was  not  pleasant.  Yet  they  would  be  poorer  still 
at  the  Ralstons,  and  she  would  be  the  cause  of  it. 

If  uncle  Robert  refused  to  help  them,  the  posi 
tion  would  be  desperate.  She  watched  the  rain 
and  tried  to  think  it  all  over.  She  supposed  that 
her  father  would  insist  upon  —  what  ?  Not  upon 
keeping  the  secret,  for  that  would  not  be  like  him. 
He  was  a  horribly  virtuous  man,  Charlotte  used  to 
say.  Oh,  no !  he  would  not  act  a  lie  on  any 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  249 

account,  not  he  !  Katharine  wondered  why  she 
hated  this  scrupulous  truthfulness  in  her  father 
and  admired  it  above  all  things  in  Ralston.  Jack 
would  not  act  a  lie  either.  But  then,  if  there  were 
to  be  110  secret,  and  if  the  marriage  were  to  be 
announced,  what  would  happen  ?  Would  her 
father  insist  upon  her  living  at  home  until  her 
husband  should  be  able  to  support  her  ?  What  a 
situation!  She  cared  less  than  most  girls  about 
social  opinion,  but  she  really  wondered  what 
society  would  say.  Her  father  would  say  nothing. 
He  would  smile  that  electric  smile  of  his,  and  hold 
his  head  higher  than  ever.  {  This  is  what  happens 
to  daughters  who  disobey  their  parents/  he  would 
seem  to  tell  the  world.  She  had  always  thought 
that  he  might  be  like  the  first  Brutus,  and  she  felt 
sure  of  it  now. 

It  seemed  like  weakness  to  think  of  going  to 
uncle  Robert  that  very  afternoon,  before  the  inevi 
table  moment  was  past.  Yet  it  would  be  such  an 
immense  satisfaction  to  have  had  the  interview  and 
to  have  his  promise  to  do  something  for  Ralston. 
The  thought  seemed  cowardly  and  yet  she  dwelt 
011  it.  Of  course,  her  chief  weapon  with  the  old 
gentleman  was  to  be  the  fact  that  the  thing  was 
done  and  could  not  be  undone,  so  that  he  could 
have  no  good  advice  to  give.  And,  yet,  perhaps 
she  might  move  him  by  saying  that  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  and  was  to  be  married  to-morrow. 


250  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE^ 

He  might  not  believe  her,  and  might  laugh  and 
send  her  away — with  one  of  his  hearty  avuncular 
kisses  —  she  could  see  his  dear  old  face  in  her 
imagination.  But  if  he  did  that,  she  could  still 
return  to-morrow,  and  show  him  the  certificate  of 
her  marriage.  He  would  not  then  be  able  to  say 
that  she  had  not  given  him  fair  warning.  She 
wished  it  would  not  rain.  She  would  have  walked 
in  the  direction  of  his  house,  and  when  she  was 
near  it  she  knew  in  her  heart  that  she  would  yield 
— since  it  seemed  like  a  temptation  —  and  perhaps 
it  would  be  better. 

But  it  was  raining,  and  uncle  Robert  lived  far 
away  from  Clinton  Place  in  a  house  he  had  built 
for  himself  at  the  corner  of  a  new  block  facing  the 
Central  Park.  He  had  built  the  whole  block  and 
had  kept  possession  of  it  afterwards.  It  was 
almost  three  miles  from  Alexander  Lauderdale's 
house  in  unfashionable  Clinton  Place  —  three  miles 
of  elevated  road,  or  of  horse-car  or  of  walking  — 
and  in  any  case  it  meant  getting  wet  in  such  a 
rain  storm.  Moreover,  Katharine  rarely  went 
alone  by  the  elevated  road.  She  wished  it  would 
stop  raining.  If  it  would  only  stop  for  half  an 
hour  she  would  go.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well  to  let 
fate  decide  the  matter  in  that  way. 

Just  then  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door.  She 
flattened  her  face  against  the  window,  but  could 
not  see  who  got  out  of  it.  It  was  a  cab,  however, 


KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  251 

and  the  driver  had  a  waterproof  hat  and  coat.  In 
all  probability  it  came  from  one  of  the  hotels.  Any 
one  might  have  taken  it.  Katharine  drew  back  a 
little  and  looked  idly  at  the  little  mottled  mist  her 
breath  had  made  upon  the  window  pane.  The 
door  of  her  room  opened  suddenly. 

"  Kitty,  are  you  there  ?  "  asked  a  woman's  voice. 

Katharine  knew  as  the  handle  of  the  latch  was 
turned  that  her  sister  Charlotte  had  come.  No 
one  else  ever  entered  her  room  without  knocking, 
and  no  one  else  ever  called  her  '  Kitty.'  She  hated 
the  abbreviation  of  her  name  and  she  resented  the 
familiarity  of  the  unbidden  entrance.  She  turned 
rather  sharply. 

"  Oh  —  is  that  you  ?  I  thought  you  were  in 
Washington."  She  came  forward,  and  the  two 
exchanged  kisses  mechanically. 

"Benjamin  Slayback  of  Nevada  had  business 
in  New  York,  so  I  came  up  to  get  a  breath  of  my 
native  microbes,"  said  Charlotte,  going  to  the  mir 
ror  and  beginning  to  take  off  her  hat  very  carefully 
so  as  not  to  disturb  her  hair.  "  We  are  at  a  hotel, 
of  course  —  but  it's  nice,  all  the  same.  I  suppose 
mamma's  at  work  and  I  know  papa's  down  town, 
and  the  ancestor  is  probably  studying  some  new 
kind  of  fool — so  I  came  to  your  room." 

"Will  you  have  some  tea?"  asked  Katharine. 

"Tea?  What  wild  extravagance!  I  suppose 
you  offer  it  to  me  as  '  Mrs.  Slayback.'  I  wonder  if 


252  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

papa  would.  I  can  see  him  smile — just  like  this 
— isn't  it  just  like  him  ?  " 

She  smiled  before  the  mirror  and  then  turned 
suddenly  on  Katharine.  The  mimicry  was  cer 
tainly  good.  Mrs.  Slayback,  however,  was  fair, 
like  her  mother,  with  a  radiant  complexion,  golden 
hair  and  good  features, — larger  and  bolder  than 
Mrs.  Lauderdale's,  but  not  nearly  so  classically 
perfect.  There  was  something  hard  in  her  face, 
especially  about  the  eyes. 

"It's  just  the  same  as  ever,"  she  said,  seating 
herself  in  the  small  arm-chair  —  the  only  one  in 
the  room.  "  The  same  dear,  delightful,  dreary, 
comfortless,  furnace-heated,  gas-lighted,  '  put-on- 
your-best-hat-to-go-to-church '  sort  of  existence  that 
it  always  was !  I  wonder  how  you  all  stand  it  — 
how  I  stood  it  so  long  myself ! " 

Katharine  laughed  and  turned  her  head.  She 
had  been  looking  out  of  the  window  again  and 
wondering  whether  the  rain  would  stop  after  all. 
She  and  her  sister  had  never  lived  very  harmoni 
ously  together.  Their  pitched  battles  had  begun 
in  the  nursery  with  any  weapons  they  could  lay 
hands  on,  pillows,  moribund  dolls,  soapy  sponges, 
and  the  nurse's  shoes.  Though  Katharine  was 
the  younger,  she  had  soon  been  the  stronger  at 
close  quarters.  But  Charlotte  had  the  sharper 
tongue  and  was  by  far  the  better  shot  with  any 
projectile  when  safely  entrenched  behind  the  bed. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.      253 

At  the  first  show  of  hostilities  she  made  for  both 
sponges  —  a  rag-doll  was  not  a  bad  thing,  if  she 
got  a  chance  to  dip  it  into  the  basin,  but  there  was 
nothing  like  a  sponge,  when  it  was  'just  gooey 
with  soap/  as  the  youthful  Charlotte  expressed  it. 
She  carried  the  art  of  throwing  to  a  high  degree  of 
perfection,  and  on  yery  rare  occasions,  after  she  was 
grown  up,  she  surprised  her  adorers  by  throwing 
pebbles  at  a  mark  with  an  unerring  accuracy  which 
would  have  done  credit  to  a  poacher's  apprentice. 

Since  the  nursery  days  the  warfare  had  been 
carried  on  by  words  and  the  encounters  had  been 
less  frequent,  but  the  contrast  was  always  appar 
ent  between  Katharine's  strength  and  Charlotte's 
quickness.  Katharine  waited,  collected  her  strength, 
chose  her  language  and  delivered  a  heavy  blow,  so 
to  say.  Charlotte,  as  Frank  Miner  put  it,  {  slung 
English  all  over  the  lot.'  Both  were  effective  in 
their  way.  But  they  had  the  good  taste  to  quarrel 
in  private  and,  moreover,  in  many  things  they 
were  allies.  With  regard  to  their  father,  Katha 
rine  took  an  evil  and  silent  delight  in  her  sister's 
sarcasms,  and  Charlotte  could  not  help  admiring 
Katharine's  solid,  unyielding  opposition  on  certain 
points. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Katharine,  answering  Charlotte's 
last  remark.  "  There'll  be  less  change  than  ever 
now  that  you're  married." 

"  I  suppose  so.     Poor  Kitty  !     We  used  to  fight 


254  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

now  and  then,  but  I  know  you  enjoyed  looking  on 
when  I  made  a  row  at  dinner.  Didn't  you  ?  " 

"Of  course!  did.  I'm  a  human  being."  Katha 
rine  laughed  again.  "  Won't  you  really  have  tea  ? 
I  always  have  it  when  I  want  it." 

"You  brave  little  thing!  Do  you?  Well  — 
if  you  like.  You  quiet  people,  always  have  your 
own  way  in  the  end,"  added  Mrs.  Slayback,  rather 
thoughtfully.  "I  suppose  it's  the  steady  push 
that  does  it." 

"  Don't  you  have  your  way,  too  ?  "  asked  Katha 
rine,  in  some  surprise  at  her  sister's  tone  of  voice. 

"No.  I'm  ashamed  to  say  that  I  don't.  No  —  " 
She  seemed  to  be  recapitulating  events.  "No — I 
don't  have  my  way  at  all  —  not  the  least  little  bit. 
I  have  the  way  of  Benjamin  Slayback  of  Nevada." 

"Why  do  you  talk  of  your  husband  in  that 
way  ?  "  enquired  Katharine. 

"  Shall  I  call  him  Mr.  Slayback  ?  "  asked  Char 
lotte,  "or  Benjamin  —  dear  little  Benjamin!  or 
Ben  —  the  '  soldier  bold '  ?  How  does  <  Ben ' 
strike  you,  Kitty  ?  I  know  —  I've  thought  of 
calling  him  Minnie  —  last  syllable  of  Benjamin, 
you  see.  There  was  a  moment  when  I  hesitated 
at  'Benjy' —  'Benjy,  darling,  another  cup  of 
coffee  ?  '  —  it  would  sound  so  quiet  and  home-like 
at  breakfast,  wouldn't  it  ?  It's  fortunate  that 
papa  made  us  get  up  early  all  our  lives.  My 
dream  of  married  happiness  —  a  nice  little  French 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  255 

maid  smiling  at  me  with  a  beautiful  little  tea-tray 
just  as  I  was  opening  my  eyes  —  I  had  thought 
about  it  for  years  !  Well,  it's  all  over.  Benjamin 
Slayback  of  Nevada  takes  his  breakfast  like  a 
man  —  a  regular  Benjamin's  portion  of  breakfast, 
and  wants  to  feast  his  eyes  on  my  loveliness,  arid 
his  understanding  on  my  wit,  and  his  inner  man 
on  the  flesh  of  kine  —  and  all  that  together  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning — Benjamin  Slayback  of 
Nevada  —  there's  no  other  name  for  him ! " 

"The  name  irritates  me  —  you  repeat  it  so 
often ! " 

"  Does  it,  dear  ?  The  man  irritates  me,  and 
that's  infinitely  worse.  I  wish  you  knew  ! " 

"But  he's  awfully  good  to  you,  Charlie.  You 
can't  deny  that,  at  all  events." 

"Yes  —  and  he  calls  me  Lottie,"  answered 
Charlotte,  with  much  disgust.  "  You  know  how  I 
hate  it.  But  if  you  are  going  to  lecture  me  on 
my  husband's  goodness  —  Kitty,  I  tell  you  frankly, 
I  won't  stand  it.  I'll  say  something  to  you  that'll 
make  you — just  frizzle  up  !  Remember  the  soapy 
sponge  of  old,  my  child,  and  be  nice  to  your  sister. 
I  came  here  hoping  to  see  you.  I  want  to  talk 
seriously  to  you.  At  least  —  I'm  not  sure.  I  want 
to  talk  seriously  to  somebody,  and  you're  the  most 
serious  person  I  know." 

"  More  so  than  your  husband  ?  " 

"He's  grave  enough  sometimes,  but  not  gener- 


256  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

ally.  It's  almost  always  about  his  constituents. 
They  are  to  him  what  the  liver  is  to  some  people 
—  only  that  they  are  beyond  the  reach  of  mineral 
waters.  Besides  —  it's  about  him  that  I  want  to 
talk.  You  look  surprised,  though  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  why.  I  suppose — because  I've  never  said 
anything  before." 

"But  I  don't  even  know  what  you're  going  to 
say—" 

Mrs.  Slayback  looked  at  her  younger  sister  stead 
ily  for  a  moment,  and  then  looked  at  the  window. 
The  rain  was  still  falling  fast  and  steadily  ;  and 
the  room  had  a  dreary,  dingy  air  about  it  as  the 
afternoon  advanced.  It  had  been  Charlotte's  before 
her  marriage,  and  Katharine  had  moved  into  it  since 
because  it  was  better  than  her  own.  The  elder  girl 
had  filled  it  with  little  worthless  trifles  which  had 
brightened  it  to  a  certain  extent ;  but  Katharine 
cared  little  for  that  sort  of  thing,  and  was  far 
more  indifferent  to  the  aspect  of  the  place  in 
which  she  lived.  There  were  a  couple  of  dark 
engravings  of  sacred  subjects  on  the  walls, — one 
over  the  narrow  bed  in  the  corner,  and  the  other 
above  the  chest  of  drawers,  and  there  was  nothing 
more  which  could  be  said  to  be  intended  for  orna 
ment.  Yet  Charlotte  Slayback's  hard  face  softened 
a  little  as  her  eyes  wandered  from  the  window  to 
the  familiar,  faded  wall  paper  and  the  old-fash 
ioned  furniture.  The  silence  lasted  some  time. 
Then  she  turned  to  her  sister  again. 


Kitty  —  don't  do  what  I've  done,"  she  said  earnestly." — Vol.  I.,  p.  257. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALK  257 

"  Kitty  —  don't  do  what  I've  done/'  she  said, 
earnestly. 

She  watched  the  girl's  face  for  a  change  of  ex 
pression,  but  Katharine's  impassive  features  were 
not  quick  to  express  any  small  feeling  beyond 
passing  annoyance. 

"  Aren't  you  happy,  Charlie  ?  "  Katharine  asked, 
gravely. 

"  Happy  ! " 

The  elder  woman  only  repeated  the  single  word, 
but  it  told  her  story  plainly  enough.  She  would 
have  given  much  to  have  come  back  to  the  old 
room,  dreary  as  it  looked. 

"I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Katharine,  in  a  lower 
voice  and  beginning  to  understand.  "Isn't  he 
kind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  not  that !  He's  kind  —  in  his  way  — 
it  makes  it  worse  —  far  worse,"  she  repeated,  after 
a  moment's  pause.  "  I  hadn't  been  much  used  to 
that  sort  of  kindness  before  I  was  married,  you 
know  —  except  from  mamma,  and  that  was  differ 
ent  —  and  -to  have  it  from  —  "  She  stopped. 

Katharine  had  never  seen  her  sister  in  this  mood 
before.  Charlotte  was  generally  the  last  person  to 
make  confidences,  or  to  complain  softly  of  any 
thing  she  did  not  like.  Katharine  thought  she 
must  be  very  much  changed. 

"  You  say  you're  unhappy,"  said  the  young  girl. 
"But  you  don't  tell  me  why.  Has  there  been  any 
trouble  —  anything  especial  ?  " 


258  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  No.  You  don't  understand.  How  should  you  ? 
We  never  did  understand  each  other  voiy  well,  you 
and  I.  I  don't  know  why  I  come  to  you  with  my 
troubles,  either.  You  can't  help  me.  Nobody  can 
—  unless  it  were  —  a  lawyer." 

"  A  lawyer  ?  "  Katharine  was  taken  by  surprise 
now,  and  her  eyes  showed  it. 

"Yes,"  answered  Charlotte,  her  voice  growing 
cold  and  hard  again.  "  People  can  be  divorced  for 
incompatibility  of  temper." 

"Charlotte!"  The  young  girl  started  a  little, 
and  leaned  forward,  laying  her  hand  upon  her 
sister's  knee. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  mean  it.  I'm  sorry  to  horrify  you 
so,  my  dear,  and  I  suppose  papa  would  say  that 
divorce  was  not  a  proper  subject  for  conversation. 
Perhaps  he's  right  —  but  he's  not  here  to  tell 
us  so." 

"  But,  Charlie  —  Katharine  stopped  short,  un 
able  to  say  the  first  word  of  the  many  that  rushed 
to  her  lips. 

"I  know,"  said  Charlotte,  paying  no- attention. 
"  I  know  exactly  what  you're  going  to  say.  You 
are  going  to  argue  the  question,  and  tell  me  in  the 
first  place  that  I'm  bad,  and  then  that  I'm  mad, 
and  then  that  I'm  a  mother,  —  and  all  sorts  of 
things.  I've  thought  of  them  all,  my  dear;  and 
they're  very  terrible,  of  course.  But  I'm  quite 
willing  to  be  them  all  at  once,  if  I  can  only  get  my 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  259 

freedom  again.  I  don't  expect  much  sympathy, 
and  I  don't  want  any  good  advice — and  I  haven't 
seen  a  lawyer  yet.  But  I  must  talk  —  I  must  say 
it  out  —  I  must  hear  it!  Kitty  —  I'm  desperate! 
I  never  knew  what  it  meant  before." 

She  rose  suddenly  from  her  seat,  walked  twice 
up  and  down  the  room,  and  then  stood  still  before 
Katharine,  and  looked  down  into  her  face. 

"Of  course  you  can't  understand,"  she  said,  as 
she  had  said  before.  "  How  should  you  ?  "  She 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  I  think  I  could,  if  you  would  tell  me  more 
about  yourself,"  Katharine  replied.  "I'm  trying 
to  understand.  I'd  help  you  if  I  knew  how." 

"That's  impossible."  Mrs.  Slayback  seated  her 
self  again.  "But  it's  this.  You  must  have  won 
dered  why  I  married  him,  didn't  you  ?" 

"Well  —  not  exactly.  But  it  seemed  to  me  — 
there  were  other  men,  if  you  meant  to  marry  a 
man  you  didn't  love." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  love,"  said  Charlotte.  "  But 
I  wanted  to  be  married  for  many  reasons  —  most 
of  all,  because  I  couldn't  bear  the  life  here." 

"  Yes  —  I  know.  You're  not  like  me.  But  why 
didn't  you  choose  somebody  else  ?  I  can't  under 
stand  marrying  without  love ;  but  it  seems  to  me, 
as  I  said,  that  if  one  is  going  to  do  such  a  thing 
one  had  better  make  a  careful  choice." 

"I  did.     I  chose  my  husband  for  many  reasons. 


260  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

He  is  richer  than  any  of  the  men  who  proposed  to 
me,  and  that's  a  great  thing.  And  he's  very  good- 
natured,  and  what  they  call  '  an  able  man.'  There 
were  lots  of  good  reasons.  There  were  things  I 
didn't  like,  of  course ;  but  I  thought  I  could  make 
him  change.  I  did  —  in  little  things.  He  never 
wears  a  green  tie  now,  for  instance  —  " 

"As  if  such  things  could  make  a  difference  in 
life's  happiness!"  cried  Katharine,  contemptuously. 

"My  dear  —  they  do.  But  never  mind  that.  I 
thought  I  could  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  —  develop  his 
latent  social  talent.  And  I  have.  In  that  way 
he's  changed  a  good  deal.  You've  not  seen  him 
this  year,  have  you?  No,  of  course  not.  Well, 
he's  not  the  same  man.  But  it's  in  the  big  things. 
I  thought  I  could  manage  him,  by  sheer  force  of 
superior  will,  and  make  him  do  just  what  I  wanted 
—  oh,  I  made  such  a  mistake  ! " 

"  And  because  you've  married  a  man  whom  you 
can't  order  about  like  a  servant,  you  want  to  be 
divorced,"  said  Katharine,  coldly. 

"I  knew  you  couldn't  understand,"  Charlotte 
answered,  with  unusual  gentleness.  "I  suppose 
you  won't  believe  me  if  I  tell  you  that  I  suffer  all 
the  time,  and  —  very,  very  much." 

Katharine  did  not  understand,  but  her  sister's 
tone  told  her  plainly  enough  that  there  was  real 
trouble  of  some  sort. 

"  Charlie,"  she  said,  "  there's  something  on  your 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  261 

mind  —  something  else.  How  can  I  know  what  it 
is,  unless  you  tell  me,  dear  ?  " 

Mrs.  Slayback  turned  her  head  away,  and  bit  her 
lip,  as  though  the  kind  words  had  touched  her. 

"It's  my  pride,"  she  said  suddenly  and  very 
quickly.  "  He  hurts  it  so !  " 

"  But  how  ?  Merely  because  he  does  things  in 
his  own  way?  He  probably  knows  best  —  they 
all  say  he's  very  clever  in  politics." 

"  Clever  !  I  should  think  so  !  He's  a  great, 
rough,  good-natured,  ill-mannered — no,  he's  not  a 
brute.  He's  painfully  kind.  But  with  that  exte 
rior  —  there's  no  other  word.  He  has  the  quick 
ness  of  a  woman  in  some  ways.  I  believe  he  can 
be  anything  he  chooses." 

"  But  all  you  say  is  rather  in  his  favour." 

"  I  know  it  is.  I  wish  it  were  not.  If  I  loved 
him  —  the  mere  idea  is  ridiculous  !  But  if  I  did,  I 
would  trot  by  his  side  and  carry  the  basket  through 
life,  like  his  poodle.  But  I  don't  love  him  —  and 
he  expects  me  to  do  it  all  the  same.  I'm  curled, 
and  scented,  and  fed  delicately,  and  put  to  sleep 
on  a  silk  cushion,  and  have  a  beautiful  new  ribbon 
tied  round  my  neck  every  morning,  just  like  a 
poodle-dog  —  and  I  must  trot  quietly  and  carry  the 
basket.  That's  all  I  am  in  his  life  —  it  wasn't 
exactly  my  dream,"  she  added  bitterly. 

"  I  see.  And  you  thought  that  it  was  to  be  the 
other  way,  and  that  he  was  to  trot  beside  you." 


262  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"You  put  it  honestly,  at  all  events.  Yes.  I 
suppose  I  thought  that.  I  did  not  expect  this, 
anyhow  —  and  I  simply  can't  bear  it  any  longer ! 
So  long  as  there's  any  question  of  social  matters, 
of  course,  everything  is  left  to  me.  He  can't  leave 
a  card  himself,  he  won't  make  visits  —  he  won't 
lift  a  finger,  though  he  wants  it  all  properly  and 
perfectly  done.  Lottie  must  trot  —  with  the  card- 
basket.  But  if  I  venture  to  have  an  opinion  about 
anything,  I  have  no  more  influence  over  him  than 
the  furniture.  I  mustn't  say  this,  because  it  will 
be  repeated  that  his  wife  said  it ;  and  I  mustn't  say 
that,  because  those  are  not  his  political  opinions ; 
and  I  mustn't  say  something  else,  because  it  might 
get  back  to  Nevada  and  offend  his  constituents  — 
and  as  for  doing  anything,  it's  simply  out  of  the 
question.  When  I'm  bored  to  death  with  it  all,  he 
tells  me  that  his  constituents  expect  him  to  stay 
in  Washington  during  the  session,  and  he  advises 
me  to  go  away  for  a  few  days,  and  offers  to  draw 
me  a  cheque.  He  would  probably  give  me  a  thou 
sand  dollars  for  my  expenses  if  I  wanted  to  stay  a 
week  with  you.  I  don't  know  whether  he  wants 
to  seem  magnificent,  or  whether  he  thinks  I  expect 
it,  or  if  he  really  imagines  that  I  should  spend  it. 
But  it  isn't  that  I  want,  Kitty  —  it  isn't  that!  I 
didn't  marry  for  money,  though  it  was  very  nice  to 
have  so  much  —  it  wasn't  for  that,  it  really,  really 
wasn't!  I  suppose  it's  absurd — perfectly  wild  — 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  263 

but  I  wanted  to  be  somebody,  to  have  some  influ 
ence  in  the  world,  to  have  just  a  little  of  what 
people  call  real  power.  And  I  haven't  got  it,  and  I 
can't  have  it;  and  I'm  nothing  but  his  poodle-dog, 
and  I'm  perfectly  miserable !  " 

Katharine  could  find  nothing  to  say  when  her 
sister  paused  after  her  long  speech.  It  was  not 
easy  for  her  to  sympathize  with  any  one  so  totally 
unlike  herself,  nor  to  understand  the  state  of  mind 
of  a  woman  who  wanted  the  sort  of  power  which 
few  women  covet,  who  had  practically  given  her 
life  in  exchange  for  the  hope  of  it,  and  who  had 
pitiably  failed  to  obtain  it.  She  stared  out  of 
the  window  at  the  falling  rain,  and  it  all  seemed 
very  dreary  to  her. 

"  It's  my  pride  ! "  exclaimed  Charlotte,  suddenly, 
after  a  pause.  "I  never  knew  what  it  meant 
before  —  and  you  never  can.  It's  intolerable  to 
feel  that  I'm  beaten  at  the  very  beginning  of  life. 
Can't  you  understand  that,  at  least  ?  " 

"Yes  —  but,  Charlie  dear,  —  it's  a  long  way 
from  a  bit  of  wounded  pride  to  a  divorce  —  isn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Charlotte,  disconsolately.  "  I 
suppose  it  is.  But  if  you  knew  the  horrible  sen 
sation  !  It  grows  worse  and  worse  —  and  the  less 
I  can  find  fault  with  him  for  other  things,  the 
worse  it  seems  to  grow.  And  it's  quite  useless 
to  fight.  You  know  I'm  good  at  fighting,  don't 


264      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

you  ?  I  used  to  think  I  was,  until  I  tried  to  fight 
my  husband.  My  dear  —  I'm  not  in  it  with  him  ! " 

Katharine  rose  and  turned  her  back,  feeling  that 
she  could  hardly  control  herself  if  she  sat  still. 
There  was  an  incredible  frivolity  about  her  sister 
at  certain  moments  which  was  almost  revolting  to 
the  young  girl. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Charlotte,  observing  her 
movement. 

"  Oh  —  nothing,"  answered  Katharine.  "  The 
shade  isn't  quite  up  and  it's  growing  dark,  that's 
all." 

"  I  thought  you  were  angry,"  said  Mrs.  Slayback. 

"  I  ?  Why  should  I  be  angry  ?  What  business 
is  it  of  mine  ?  "  Katharine  turned  and  faced  her, 
having  adjusted  the  shade  to  her  liking.  "  Of 
course,  if  you  must  say  that  sort  of  thing,  you 
had  better  say  it  to  me  than  to  any  one  else.  It 
doesn't  sound  well  in  the  world  —  and  it's  not 
pleasant  to  hear." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Charlotte,  her  voice  grow 
ing  hard  and  cold  again.  "But  that's  a  foolish 
question.  Well  —  I've  had  my  talk  out  —  and 
I  feel  better.  One  must  sometimes,  you  know." 
Her  tone  softened  again,  unexpectedly.  "Don't 
be  too  hard  on  me,  Kitty  dear  —  just  because 
you're  a  better  woman  than  I  am."  There  was 
a  tremor  in  her  last  words. 

Katharine    did    not    understand.       She    under- 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  265 

stood,  however,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
that  a  frivolous  woman  can  suffer  quite  as  much 
as  a  serious  one  —  which  is  a  truth  not  generally 
recognized.  She  put  her  arm  round  her  sister's 
neck  very  gently,  and  pressed  the  fair  head  to  her 
bosom,  as  she  stood  beside  her. 

"  I'm  not  better  than  you,  Charlie  — I'm  different, 
that's  all.  Poor  dear  !  Of  course  you  suffer  ! " 

"  Dear ! "  And  Charlotte  rubbed  her  smooth 
cheek  affectionately  against  the  rough  grey  woollen 
of  her  sister's  frock. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  rain  continued  to  fall,  and  even  if  the 
weather  had  changed  it  would  have  been  too  late 
for  Katharine  to  go  and  see  Robert  Lauderdale 
after  her  sister  had  left  her.  On  the  whole,  she 
thought,  it  would  probably  have  been  a  mistake 
to  speak  to  him  beforehand.  She  had  felt  a  strong 
temptation  to  do  so,  but  it  had  not  been  the  part 
of  wisdom.  She  waited  for  Ralston's  note. 

At  last  it  came.  It  was  short  and  clear.  He 
had,  with  great  difficulty,  found  a  clergyman  who 
was  willing  to  marry  them,  and  who  would  per 
form  the  ceremony  on  the  following  morning  at 
half-past  nine  o'clock.  The  clergyman  had  only 
consented  on  Ralston's  strong  representations,  and 
on  the  distinct  understanding  that  there  was  to 
be  no  unnecessary  secrecy  after  the  fact,  and  that 
the  couple  should  solemnly  promise  to  inform 
their  parents  of  what  they  had  done  at  the  earliest 
moment  consistent  with  their  welfare.  Ralston 
had  written  out  his  very  words  in  regard  to  that 
matter,  for  he  liked  them,  and  felt  that  Katharine 
should. 

John  had  been  fortunate  in  his  search,  for  he 
200 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  267 

had  accidentally  come  upon  a  man  whose  own  life 
had  been  marred  by  the  opposition  of  a  young 
girl's  family  to  her  marriage  with  him.  He  him 
self  had  in  consequence  never  married ;  the  young 
girl  had  taken  a  husband  and  had  been  a  most 
unhappy  woman.  He  sympathized  with  Ralston, 
liked  his  face,  and  agreed  to  marry  Ralston  and 
Katharine  immediately.  His  church  lay  in  a  dis 
tant  part  of  the  city,  and  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
society,  and  therefore  nothing  to  fear  from  it.  If 
trouble  arose  he  was  justified  beforehand  by  the  fact 
that  no  clergyman  has  an  absolute  right  to  refuse 
marriage  to  those  who  ask  it,  and  by  the  thought 
that  he  was  contributing  to  happiness  of  the  kind 
which  he  himself  had  most  desired,  but  which  had 
been  withheld  from  him  under  just  such  circum 
stances  as  those  in  which  Ralston  and  Katharine 
were  placed.  The  good  man  admired,  too,  the  wis 
dom  of  the  course  they  were  taking.  When  he  had 
said  that  he  would  consider  the  matter  favourably, 
provided  that  there  was  no  legal  obstacle,  Ralston 
had  told  him  the  whole  truth,  and  had  explained 
exactly  what  Katharine  and  he  intended  to  do.  Of 
course,  he  had  to  explain  the  relationship  which 
existed  between  them  and  old  Robert  Lauderdale, 
and  the  clergyman,  to  Ralston's  considerable  sur 
prise,  took  Katharine's  view  of  the  possibilities.  He 
only  insisted  that  the  plan  should  be  conscientiously 
carried  out  as  soon  as  might  be,  and  that  Katha- 


268  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

rine  should  therefore  go,  in  the  course  of  the  same 
day,  and  tell  her  story  to  Mr.  Robert  Lauderdale. 
Ralston  made  no  difficulty  about  that,  and  agreed 
to  be  at  the  door  of  the  clergyman's  house  on  the 
following  morning  at  half-past  nine.  The  latter 
would  open  the  church  himself.  It  was  very 
improbable  that  any  one  should  see  them  at  that 
hour,  and  in  that  distant  part  of  the  city. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  entering  upon  a  defence 
of  the  clergyman's  action  in  the  affair.  It  was 
a  case,  not  of  right  or  wrong,  nor  of  doing  any 
thing  irregular,  but  possibly  excusable.  Theoreti 
cally,  it  was  his  duty  to  comply  with  Ralston's 
request.  In  practice,  it  was  a  matter  of  judgment 
and  of  choice,  since  if  he  had  flatly  refused,  as 
several  others  had  done  without  so  much  as  know 
ing  the  names  of  the  parties,  Ralston  would  cer 
tainly  have  found  it  out  of  the  question  to  force 
his  consent.  He  believed  that  he  was  doing  right, 
he  wished  to  do  what  was  kind,  and  he  knew  that 
he  was  acting  legally  and  that  the  law  must  sup 
port  him.  He  ran  the  risk  of  offending  his-  own 
congregation  if  the  story  got  abroad,  but  •  he  re 
membered  his  own  youth  and  he  cheerfully  took 
that  risk.  He  would  not  have  done  as  much  for 
any  two  who  might  have  chanced  to  present  them 
selves,  however.  But  Ralston  impressed  him  as 
a  man  of  honour,  a  gentleman  and  very  truthful, 
and  there  was  just  enough  of  socialistic  tendency 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  269 

in  the  good  man,  as  the  pastor  of  a  very  poor 
congregation,  to  enjoy  the  idea  that  the  rich  man 
should  be  forced,  as  a  matter  of  common  decency, 
to  do  something  for  his  less  fortunate  relation. 
With  his  own  life  and  experience  behind  him,  he 
could  not  possibly  have  seen  things  as  Robert 
Lauderdale  saw  them. 

So  the  matter  was  settled,  and  Katharine  had 
Ralston's  note.  He  added  that  he  would  be  in 
Clinton  Place  at  half-past  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  on  foot.  They  might  be  seen  walking 
together  at  almost  any  hour,  by  right  of  cousin- 
ship,  but  to  appear  together  in  a  carriage,  espe 
cially  at  such  an  hour,  was  out  of  the  question. 

It  would  have  been  unlike  her  to  hesitate  now. 
She  had  made  up  her  mind  long  before  she  had 
spoken  to  Ralston  on  Monday  evening,  and  there 
was  nothing  new  to  her  in  the  idea.  But  she 
could  not  help  wondering  about  the  future,  as 
she  had  been  doing  when  Charlotte  Slayback  had 
unexpectedly  appeared  in  the  afternoon.  Mean 
while  the  evening  was  before  her.  She  was  going 
to  a  dinner-party  of  young  people  and  afterwards 
to  the  dance  at  the  Thirlwalls',  of  which  she  had 
spoken  to  Ralston.  He  would  be  there,  but  would 
not  be  at  the  dinner,  as  she  knew.  At  the  latter 
there  were  to  be  two  young  married  women  who 
were  to  chaperon  the  young  girls  to  the  other 
house  afterwards. 


270  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

At  eight  o'clock  Katharine  sat  down  to  table 
between  two  typical,  fashion-struck  youths,  one  of 
whom  took  more  champagne  than  was  good  for  him, 
and  talked  to  her  of  college  sports  and  football 
matches  in  which  he  had  not  taken  part,  but 
which  excited  his  enthusiasm,  while  the  other 
drank  water,  and  asked  if  she  preferred  Schopen 
hauer  or  Hegel.  Of  the  two,  she  preferred  the 
critic  of  athletics.  But  the  dinner  seemed  a  very 
long  one  to  Katharine,  though  it  was  really  of  the 
short  and  fashionable  type. 

Then  came  another  girls'  talk  while  the  young 
men  smoked  furiously  together  in  another  room. 
The  two  married  women  managed  to  get  into  a 
corner,  and  told  each  other  long  stories  in  whis 
pers,  while  the  young  girls,  who  were  afraid  of 
romping  and  playing  games  because  they  were 
in  their  ball-dresses,  amused  themselves  as  they 
could,  with  a  good  deal  of  highly  slangy  but  per 
fectly  harmless  chaff,  and  an  occasional  attempt 
at  a  little  music.  As  all  the  young  men  smoked 
the  very  longest  and  strongest  cigars,  because  they 
had  all  been  told  that  cigarettes  were  deadly,  it 
was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  they  came  into  the 
drawing-room.  They  were  all  extremely  well  be 
haved  young  fellows,  and  the  one  who  had  talked 
about  athletics  to  Katharine  was  the  only  one  who 
was  a  little  too  pink.  The  dance  was  an  early 
affair,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  whole  party 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  271 

began  to  get  ready  to  go.  They  transferred  them 
selves  from  one  house  to  another  in  big  carriages, 
and  all  arrived  within  a  short  time  of  one  another. 

Ralston  was  in  the  room  when  Katharine  en 
tered,  and  she  saw  instantly  that  he  had  been 
waiting  for  her  and  expected  a  sign  at  once.  She 
smiled  and  nodded  to  him  from  a  distance,  for  he 
had  far  too  much  tact  to  make  a  rush  at  her  as 
soon  as  she  appeared.  It  was  not  until  half  an 
hour  later  that  they  found  themselves  together 
in  the  crowded  entrance  hall,  and  Ralston  assured 
himself  more  particularly  that  everything  was  as 
she  wished  it  to  be. 

"So  to-morrow  is  our  wedding  day,"  he  said, 
looking  at  her  face.  Like  most  dark  beauties,  she 
looked  her  best  in  the  evening. 

"Yes  —  it's  to-morrow,  Jack.  You  are  glad, 
aren't  you  ?  "  she  asked,  repeating  almost  exactly 
the  last  words  she  had  spoken  that  morning  as  he 
had  left  her  at  the  door  of  the  Crowdies'  house. 

"Do  you  doubt  that  I'm  as  glad  as  you  are?" 
asked  Ralston,  earnestly.  "I've  waited  for  you 
a  long  time  —  all  my  life,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  Have  you  ?  " 

Her  grey  eyes  turned  full  upon  him  as  she  put 
the  question,  which  evidently  meant  more  to  her 
than  the  mere  words  implied.  He  paused  before 
answering  her,  with  an  over-scrupulous  caution, 
the  result  of  her  own  earnestness. 


272  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"Why  do  you  hesitate?"  she  asked,  suddenly. 
"  Didn't  you  mean  exactly  what  you  said  ?  " 

"  I  said  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  I  had  waited 

all   my  life,"  he  answered.     "I  wanted  to  be 

well  —  accurate!"  He  laughed  a  little.  "I  am 
trying  to  remember  whether  I  had  ever  cared  in 
the  least  for  any  one  else." 

Katharine  laughed  too.  He  sometimes  had  an 
almost  boyish  simplicity  about  him  which  pleased 
her  immensely. 

"  If  it  takes  such  an  effort  of  memory,  it  can't 
have  been  very  serious,"  she  said.  "I'm  not  jeal 
ous.  I  only  wish  to  know  that  you  are." 

"I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  answered, 
with  emphasis. 

"I  know  you  do,  Jack  dear,"  said  Katharine, 
and  a  short  silence  followed. 

She  was  thinking  that  this  was  the  third  time 
they  had  met  since  Monday  evening,  and  that  she 
had  not  heard  again  that  deep  vibration,  that 
heart-stirring  quaver,  in  his  words,  which  had 
touched  her  that  first  time  as  she  had  never  been 
touched  before.  She  did  not  analyze  her  own 
desire  for  it  in  the  least,  any  more  than  she 
doubted  the  sincerity  of  his  words  because  they 
were  spoken  quietly.  She  had  heard  it  once  and 
she  wanted  to  hear  it  again,  for  the  mere  momen 
tary  satisfaction  of  the  impression. 

But  Ralston  was  very  calm  that  evening.     He 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  273 

had  been  extremely  careful  of  what  he  did  since 
Monday  afternoon,  for  he  had  suffered  acutely 
when  his  mother  had  first  met  him  on  the  landing, 
and  he  was  determined  that  nothing  of  the  sort 
should  happen  again.  The  excitement,  too,  of  ar 
ranging  his  sudden  marriage  had  taken  the  place  of 
all  artificial  emotions  during  the  last  forty-eight 
hours.  His  nerves  were  young  and  could  bear  the 
strain  of  sudden  excess  and  equally  sudden  ab 
stention  without  troubling  him  with  any  physical 
distress.  And  this  fact  easily  made  him  too  sure  of 
himself.  To  a  certain  extent  he  was  cynical  about 
his  taste  for  strong  drink.  He  said  to  himself  quite 
frankly  that  he  wanted  excitement  and  cared  very 
little  for  the  form  in  which  he  got  it.  He  should 
have  preferred  a  life  of  adventure  and  danger. 
He  would  have  made  a  good  soldier  in  war  and  a 
bad  one  in  peace  —  a  safe  sailor  in  stormy  weather 
and  a  dangerous  one  in  a  calm.  That,  at  least,  was 
what  he  believed,  and  there  was  a  foundation  of 
truth  in  it,  for  he  was  sensible  enough  to  tell  him 
self  the  truth  about  himself  so  far  as  he  was  able. 

On  the  evening  of  the  dance  at  which  he  met 
Katharine  he  had  dined  at  home  again.  His 
mother  was  far  too  wise  to  ask  many  questions 
about  his  comings  and  goings  when  he  was  with 
her,  and  it  was  quite  natural  that  he  should  not 
tell  her  how  he  had  spent  his  day.  He  wished 
that  he  were  free  to  tell  her  everything,  however, 


274  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  to  ask  her  advice.  She  was  eminently  a  woman 
of  the  world,  though  of  the  more  serious  type,  and 
he  knew  that  her  wisdom  was  great  in  matters 
social.  For  the  rest,  she  had  always  approved  of 
his  attachment  for  Katharine,  whom  she  liked  best 
of  all  the  family,  and  she  intended  that,  if  possi 
ble,  her  son  should  marry  the  young  girl  before 
very  long.  With  her  temper  and  inherited  im 
pulses  it  was  not  likely  that  she  should  blame 
Ralston  for  any  honourable  piece  of  rashness. 
Having  once  been  convinced  that  there  was  noth 
ing  underhand  or  in  the  least  unfair  to  anybody  in 
what  he  was  doing,  Ralston  had  not  the  slightest 
fear  of  the  consequences.  The  only  men  of  the 
family  whom  he  considered  men  were  Katharine's 
father  and  Hamilton  Bright.  The  latter  could 
have  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter,  and  Ralston 
knew  that  his  friendship  could  be  counted  on.  As 
for  Alexander  Junior,  John  looked  forward  with 
delight  to  the  scene  which  must  take  place,  for  he 
was  a  born  fighter,  and  quarrelsome  besides.  He 
would  be  in  a  position  to  tell  Mr.  Lauderdale  that 
neither  righteous  wrath  nor  violent  words  could 
undo  what  had  been  done  properly,  decently  and 
in  order,  under  legal  authority,  and  by  religious 
ceremony.  Alexander  Junior's  face  would  be  a 
study  at  that  moment,  and  Ralston  hoped  that 
the  hour  of  triumph  might  not  be  far  distant. 
"  I  wonder  whether  it  seems  sudden  to  you,"  said 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  275 

Katharine,  presently.  "  It  doesn't  to  me.  You  and 
I  had  thought  about  it  ever  so  long." 

"  Long  before  you  spoke  to  me  on  Monday  ? " 
asked  John.  "I  thought  it  had  just  struck  you 
then." 

"  No,  indeed !     I  began  to  think  of  it  last  year 

—  soon   after   you   had   seen   papa.      One   doesn't 
come  to  such  conclusions  suddenly,  you  know." 

"  Some  people  do.  Of  course,  I  might  have  seen 
that  you  had  thought  it  all  out,  from  the  way  you 
spoke.  But  you  took  me  by  surprise." 

"  I  know  I  did.  But  I  had  gone  over  it  again 
and  again.  It's  not  a  light  matter,  Jack.  I'm 
putting  my  whole  life  into  your  hands  because  I 
love  you.  I  shan't  regret  it  —  I  know  that.  No 

—  you  needn't  protest,   dear.     I  know  what   Pm 
doing  very  well,  but  I  don't  mean  to  magnify  it 
into  anything  heroic.     I'm  not  the  sort  of  girl  to 
make  a  heroine,  for  I'm  far  too  sensible  and  practi 
cal.     But  it's  practical  to  run  risks  sometimes." 

"  It  depends  on  the  risk,  I  suppose,"  said  Rals 
ton.  "  Many  people  would  tell  you  that  I'm  not  a 
safe  person  to  —  " 

"  Nonsense  !  I  didn't  mean  that,"  interrupted  the 
young  girl.  "If  you  were  a  milksop,  trotting 
along  at  your  mother's  apron  strings,  I  wouldn't 
look  at  you.  Indeed,  I  wouldn't !  I  know  you're 
rather  fast,  and  I  like  it  in  you.  There  was  a  little 
boy  next  to  me  at  dinner  this  evening  —  a  dear 


276  KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE. 

little  pale-faced  thing,  who  talked  to  me  about 
Schopenhauer  and  Hegel,  and  drank  five  glasses  of 
Apollinaris  —  I  counted  them.  There  are  lots  of 
them  about  nowadays  —  all  the  fittest  having  sur 
vived,  it's  the  turn  of  the  unfit,  I  suppose.  But  I 
wouldn't  have  you  one  little  tiny  bit  better  than 
you  are.  You  don't  gamble,  and  you  don't  drink, 
and  you're  merely  supposed  to  be  fast  because 
you're  not  a  bore." 

Ralston  was  silent,  and  his  face  turned  a  little 
pale.  A  violent  struggle  arose  in  his  thoughts,  all 
at  once,  without  the  slightest  warning  nor  even  the 
previous  suspicion  that  it  could  ever  arise  at  all. 

"  That's  not  the  risk,"  continued  Katharine. 
"  Oh,  no  !  And  perhaps  what  I  mean  isn't  such  a 
very  great  risk  after  all.  I  don't  believe  there  is 
any,  myself  —  but  I  suppose  other  people  might. 
It's  that -uncle  Robert  might  not,  after  all  —  oh, 
well !  We  won't  talk  about  such  things.  If  one 
only  takes  enough  for  granted,  one  is  sure  to  get 
something  in  the  end.  That  isn't  exactly  Schopen 
hauer,  is  it  ?  But  it's  good  philosophy." 

Katharine  laughed  happily  and  looked  at  him. 
But  his  face  was  unusually  grave,  and  he  would  not 
laugh. 

"  It's  too  absurd  that  I  should  be  telling  you  to 
take  courage  and  be  cheerful,  Jack ! "  she  said,  a 
moment  later.  "I  feel  as  though  you  were  re 
proaching  me  with  not  being  serious  enough  for 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  277 

the  occasion.  That  isn't  fair.  And  it  is  serious 
—  it  is,  indeed."  Her  tone  changed.  "I'm  put 
ting  my  very  life  into  your  hands,  dear,  as  I  told 
you,  because  I  trust  you.  What's  the  matter,  Jack  ? 
You  seem  to  be  thinking  —  " 

"  I  am,"  answered  Ralston,  rather  gloomily.  "  I 
was  thinking  about  something  very,  very  impor 
tant." 

"  May  I  know  ?  "  asked  Katharine,  gently.  "  Is 
it  anything  you  should  like  me  to  know  —  or  to 
ask  me  about,  before  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  ! "  Ralston  repeated  the  word  in  a 
low  voice,  as  though  he  were  meditating  upon  its 
meaning. 

They  were  seated  on  a  narrow  little  sofa  against 
the  lower  woodwork  of  the  carved  staircase.  The 
hall  was  crowded  with  young  people  coining  and 
going  between  the  other  rooms.  Katharine  was 
leaning  back,  her  head  supported  against  the  dark 
panel,  her  eyes  apparently  half  closed  —  for  she 
was  looking  down  at  him  as  he  bent  forward.  He 
held  one  elbow  on  his  knee  and  his  chin  rested  in 
his  hand,  as  he  looked  up  sideways  at  her. 

"Katharine"  —  he  began,  and  then  stopped  sud 
denly,  and  she  saw  now  that  he  was  turning  very 
pale,  as  though  in  fear  or  pain. 

"  Yes  ?  "  She  paused.  "  What  is  it,  Jack  dear  ? 
There's  something  on  your  mind  —  are  you  afraid 
to  tell  me  ?  Or  aren't  you  sure  that  you  should  ?  " 


278  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  Ralston.  "  And  so  I'm  going 
to  do  it,"  he  added  a  moment  later.  "  Did  you  ever 
hear  that  I  was  what  they  call  dissipated  ?  " 

"  Is  that  it  ?  "  Katharine  laughed,  almost  care 
lessly.  "No,  I  never  heard  that  said  of  you. 
People  say  you're  fast,  and  rather  wild  —  and  all 
that.  I  told  you  what  I  thought  of  that  —  I  like 
it  in  you.  Perhaps  it  isn't  right,  exactly,  to  like  a 
dash  of  naughtiness  —  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Ralston,  evidently  not 
comprehending  the  question,  but  intent  upon  his 
own  thoughts.  In  the  short  pause  which  followed 
he  did  not  change  his  position,  but  the  veins  swelled 
in  his  temples,  and  his  eyelids  drooped  a  little 
when  he  spoke  again.  "  Katharine  —  I  sometimes 
drink  too  much." 

Katharine  trembled  a  little,  but  he  did  not  see  it. 
For  some  seconds  she  did  not  move,  and  did  not 
take  her  eyes  from  him.  Then  she  very  slowly 
raised  her  hand  and  passed  it  over  her  brow,  as 
though  she  were  confused,  and  presently  she  bent 
forward,  as  he  was  bending,  resting  one  elbow  on 
her  knee  and  looking  earnestly  into  his  face. 

"  Why  do  you  do  it,  Jack  ?  Don't  you  love 
me  ? "  She  asked  the  two  questions  slowly  and 
distinctly,  but  in  the  one  there  was  all  her  pity  — 
in  the  other  all  her  love. 

Again,  as  more  than  once  lately,  Ralston  was 
almost  irresistibly  impelled  to  make  a  promise, 


KATHAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  279 

simple  and  decisive,  which  should  change  his  life, 
and  which  at  all  costs  and  risks  he  would  keep. 
The  impulse  was  stronger  now,  with  Katharine's 
eyes  upon  his,  and  her  happiness  on  his  soul,  than 
it  had  been  before.  But  the  arguments  for  resist 
ing  it  were  also  stronger.  He  was  calm  enough  to 
know  the  magnitude  of  his  temptations  and  his 
habitual  weakness  in  resisting  them.  He  said 
nothing. 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  me,  dear  ?  "  Katharine 
asked  softly.  "They  were  not  hard  questions, 
were  they  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  I  love  you,"  he  answered — then 
hesitated,  and  then  went  on.  "If  I  did  not  love 
you,  I  should  not  have  told  you.  Do  you  believe 
that  ?  " 

He  guessed  that  she  only  half  realized  and  half 
understood  all  the  meaning  of  what  he  had  said. 
He  had  no  thought  of  gaining  credit  in  her  opinion 
for  having  done  what  very  few  men  would  have 
risked  in  his  position.  The  wish  to  speak  had 
come  from  the  heart,  not  from  the  head.  But  he 
had  not  foreseen  that  it  must  appear  very  easy  to 
her  for  him  to  overcome  a  temptation  which  seemed 
insignificant  in  her  eyes,  compared  with  a  life's 
happiness. 

"  Yes  —  I  know  that,"  she  answered.  "  But, 
Jack  dear  —  yes,  it  was  brave  and  honest  of  you 
—  but  you  don't  think  I  expected  a  confession,  do 


280  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

you  ?  I  daresay  you  have  done  many  things  that 
weren't  exactly  wrong  and  that  were  not  at  all  dis 
honourable,  but  which  you  shouldn't  like  to  tell  me. 
Haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Qf  course  I  have.  Every  man  has,  by  the  time 
he's  five  and  twenty  —  lots  of  things." 

"Well  —  but  now,  Jack  —  now,  when  we  are 
married,  you  won't  do  such  tilings  —  whatever 
they  may  be  —  any  more  —  will  you  ?  " 

"That's  it  — I  don't  know,"  answered  Kalston, 
determined  to  be  honest  to  the  very  end,  with  all 
his  might,  in  spite  of  everything. 

"You  don't  know?"  As  Katharine  repeated 
the  words  her  face  changed  in  a  way  that  shocked 
him,  and  he  almost  started  as  he  saw  her  expres 
sion. 

"No,"  he  answered,  steadily  enough.  "I  don't 
-  in  regard  to  what  I  spoke  of.  For  other  things, 
for  anything  else  in  the  world  that  you  ask  me,  I 
can  promise,  and  feel  sure.  But  that  one  thing  - 
it  comes  on  me  sometimes,  and  it  gets  the  better 
of  me.  I  know  —  it's  weak  —  it's  contemptible,  it's 
brutal,  if  you  like.  But  I  can't  help  it,  every  time. 
Of  course  you  can't  understand.  Nobody  can,  who 
hasn't  felt  it." 

"But,  Jack  —  if  you  promised  me  that  you 
wouldn't  ?  " 

Her  face  changed  again,  and  softened,  and  her 
voice  expressed  the  absolute  conviction  that  he 


KATUAEINE  LAUDERDALE.  281 

would  and  could  do  anything  which  he  had  given 
his  word  that  he  would  do.  That  perfect  belief 
is  more  flattering  than  almost  anything  else  to 
some  men. 

"  Katharine  —  I  can't !  "  Kalston  shook  his 
head.  "I  won't  give  you  a  promise  which  I 
might  break.  If  I  broke  it,  I  should  —  you 
wouldn't  see  me  any  more  after  that.  I'll  prom 
ise  that  I'll  try,  and  perhaps  I  shall  succeed.  I 
can't  do  more  —  indeed,  I  can't.''' 

"  Not  for  me,  Jack  dear  ? "  Her  whole  heart 
was  in  her  voice,  pleading,  pathetic,  maidenly. 

"  Don't  ask  me  like  that.  You  don't  know  what 
you're  asking.  You'll  make  me — no,  I  won't  say 
that.  But  please  don't  — ' 

Once  more  Katharine's  expression  changed.  Her 
face  was  quite  white,  and  her  grey  eyes  were  light 
and  had  a  cold  flash  in  them.  The  small,  angry 
frown  that  came  and  went  quickly  when  she  was 
annoyed,  seemed  chiselled  upon  the  smooth  fore 
head.  Ralstoii's  head  was  bent  down  and  his  hand 
shaded  his  eyes. 

"  And  you  made  me  think  you  loved  me,"  said 
Katharine,  slowly,  in  a  very  low  voice. 

"I  do  —  " 

"  Don't  say  it  again.  I  don't  want  to  hear  it. 
It  means  nothing,  now  that  I  know  —  it  never  can 
moan  anything  again.  No  —  you  needn't  come 
with  me.  I'll  go  alone." 


282  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

She  rose  suddenly  to  her  feet,  overcome  by  one 
of  those  sudden  revulsions  of  the  deepest  feelings 
in  her  nature,  to  which  strong  people  are  sub 
ject  at  very  critical  moments,  and  which  generally 
determine  their  lives  for  them,  and  sometimes  the 
lives  of  others.  She  rose  to  leave  him  with  a 
woman's  magnificent  indifference  when  her  heart 
speaks  out,  casting  all  considerations,  all  details, 
all  questions  of  future  relation  to  the  winds,  or  to 
the  accident  of  a  chance  meeting  at  some  indefinite 
date. 

There  were  many  people  in  the  hall  just  then. 
A  dance  was  beginning,  and  the  crowd  was  pouring 
in  so  swiftly  that  for  a  moment  the  young  girl 
stood  still,  close  to  Ralston,  unable  to  move.  He 
did  not  rise,  but  remained  seated,  hidden  by  her 
and  by  the  throng.  He  seized  her  hand  suddenly, 
as  it  hung  by  her  side.  No  one  could  have  noticed 
the  action  in  the  press. 

"  Katharine  —  "  he  cried,  in  a  low,  imploring  tone. 

She  drew  her  hand  away  instantly.  He  remem 
bered  afterwards  that  it  had  felt  cold  through  her 
glove.  He  heard  her  voice,  and,  looking  past 
her,  saw  Crowdie's  pale  face  and  red  mouth  —  and 
met  Crowdie's  languorous  eyes,  gazing  at  him. 

"I  want  to  go  somewhere  else,  Mr.  Crowdie," 
Katharine  was  saying.  "I've  been  in  a  draught, 
and  I'm  cold." 

Crowdie  gave  her  his  arm,  and  they  moved  on 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  283 

with  the  rest.  Kalston  had  risen  to  his  feet  as 
soon  as  he  saw  that  Crowdie  had  caught  sight  of 
him,  and  stood  looking  at  the  pair.  His  face  was 
drawn  and  tired,  and  his  eyes  were  rather  wild. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  get  out  of  the  house, 
and  be  alone,  as  soon  as  he  could,  and  he  began  to 
make  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  a  small  room 
by  the  door,  where  the  men  had  left  their  coats. 
But,  before  he  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
place,  he  changed  his  mind.  It  looked  too  much 
like  running  away.  He  allowed  himself  to  be 
wedged  into  a  corner,  and  stood  still,  watching 
the  people  absently,  and  thinking  over  what  had 
occurred. 

In  the  first  place,  he  wondered  whether  Katharine 
had  meant  as  much  as  her  speech  and  action  im 
plied  —  in  other  words,  whether  she  intended  to  let 
him  know  that  everything  was  altogether  at  an 
end  between  them.  It  seemed  almost  out  of  the 
question.  After  all,  he  had  spoken  because  he  felt 
that  it  was  a  duty  to  her.  He  was,  indeed,  pro 
foundly  hurt  by  her  behaviour.  If  she  meant  to 
break  off  everything  so  suddenly,  she  might  have 
done  it  more  kindly.  She  had  been  furiously 
angry  because  he  would  not  promise  an  impossi 
bility.  It  was  true  that  she  could  not  understand. 
He  loved  her  so  much,  even  then,  that  he  made 
excuses  for  her  conduct,  and  set  up  arguments  in 
her  favour. 


284  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

Was  it  an  impossibility,  after  all?  He  stood 
still  in  his  corner,  and  thought  the  matter  over. 
As  he  considered  it,  he  deliberately  called  the 
temptation  to  him  to  examine  it.  And  it  came, 
in  its  full  force.  Men  who  have  not  felt  it  no 
more  know  what  it  means  than  Katharine  Lauder- 
dale  knew,  when  she  accused  John  Ralston  of  not 
loving  her,  and  left  him,  apparently  forever,  be 
cause  he  would  not  promise  never  to  yield  to  it 
again. 

During  forty-eight  hours  he  had  scarcely  tasted 
anything  stronger  than  a  cup  of  coffee,  for  the 
occurrence  of  Monday  had  produced  a  deep  im 
pression  on  him  —  and  this  was  Wednesday  night. 
For  several  years  he  had  been  used  to  drinking 
whatever  he  pleased,  during  the  day,  merely  exer 
cising  enough  self-control  to  keep  out  of  women's 
society  when  he  had  taken  more  than  was  good  for 
him,  and  enough  discretion  in  the  matter  of  hours 
to  avoid  meeting  his  mother  when  he  was  not  quite 
himself.  There  are  not  so  many  men  in  polite 
society  who  regulate  their  lives  on  such  principles 
as  there  used  to  be,  but  there  are  many  still.  Men 
know,  and  keep  the  matter  to  themselves.  Insen 
sibly,  of  course,  John  Ralston  had  grown  more  or 
less  dependent  on  a  certain  amount  of  something 
to  drink  every  day,  and  he  had  very  rarely  been 
really  abstemious  for  so  long  a  time  as  during  the 
last  two  days.  He  had  lived,  too,  in  a  state  of 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  285 

considerable  anxiety,  and  had  scarcely  noticed  the 
absence  of  artificial  excitement.  But  now,  with 
the  scene  of  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  reac 
tion  had  come.  He  had  received  a  violent  sho'ck, 
and  his  head  clamoured  for  its  accustomed  remedy 
against  all  nervous  disturbances.  Then,  too,  he 
was  very  thirsty.  He  honestly  disliked  the  taste 
of  water  —  as  his  father  had  hated  it  before  him 
—  and  he  had  not  really  drunk  enough  of  it.  He 
was  more  thirsty  than  he  had  been  when  he  had 
swallowed  a  pint  of  champagne  at  a  draught  on 
Monday  afternoon.  That,  to  tell  the  truth,  was 
the  precise  form  in  which  the  temptation  pre 
sented  itself  to  him  at  the  present  moment.  It 
was  painfully  distinct.  He  knew  that  the  Thirl- 
walls,  in  whose  house  he  was,  always  had  Irroy 
Brut,  which  chanced  to  be  the  best  dry  wine  that 
year,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  only  to  follow 
the  crowd  to  the  supper  room  and  swallow  as 
much  of  it  as  he  desired.  Everybody  was  drink 
ing  it.  He  could  hear  the  glasses  faintly  ringing 
in  the  distance,  as  he  stood  in  his  corner.  He  let 
the  temptation  come  to  see  how  strong  it  would  be. 
It  was  frightfully  vivid,  as  he  let  the  picture 
rise  before  his  eyes.  He  was  now  actually  in 
physical  pain  from  thirst.  He  could  see  clearly 
the  tall  pint-glass,  foaming  and  sparkling  with  the 
ice-cold,  pale  wine.  He  could  hear  the  delicious 
little  hiss  of  the  tiny  bubbles  as  thousands  of 


286  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

them  shot  to  the  surface.  He  could  smell  the 
aromatic  essence  of  the  lemon  peel  as  the  brim 
seemed  to  come  beneath  his  nostrils.  He  could 
feel  the  exquisite  sharp  tingle,  the  inexpressible 
stinging  delight  of  the  perfect  liquid,  all  through 
his  mouth,  to  his  very  throat  —  just  as  he  had 
seen  and  smelt  and  tasted  it  all  on  Monday 
afternoon,  and  a  thousand  times  before  that  —  but 
not  since  then. 

It  became  intolerable,  or  almost  intolerable,  but 
still  he  bore  it,  with  that  curious  pleasure  in  the 
pain  of  it  which  some  people  are  able  to  feel  in 
self-imposed  suffering.  Then  he  opened  his  eyes 
wide,  and  tried  to  drive  it  away. 

But  that  was  not  so  easy.  That  diabolical  clink 
ing  and  ringing  of  distant  glasses,  away,  far  away, 
as  it  seemed,  but  high  and  distinct  above  the  hum 
of  voices,  tortured  him,  and  drew  him  towards  it. 
His  mouth  and  throat  were  actually  parched  now. 
It  was  no  longer  imagination.  And  now,  too,  the 
crowd  had  thinned,  and  as  he  looked  he  saw  that 
it  would  be  very  easy  for  him  to  get  to  the  supper 
room. 

After  all,  he  thought,  it  was  a  perfectly  legiti 
mate  craving.  He  was  excessively  thirsty,  and  he 
wanted  a  glass  of  champagne.  He  knew  very  well 
that  in  such  a  place  he  should  not  take  more  than 
one  glass,  and  that  could  not  hurt  him.  Did  he 
ever  drink  when  there  were  women  present,  in  the 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.      287 

sense  of  drinking  too  much?  On  Monday  the 
accident  had  made  a  difference.  Surely,  as  he  had 
often  heard,  the  manly  course  was  to  limit  himself 
to  what  he  needed,  and  not  go  beyond  it.  All 
those  other  people  did  that  —  why  should  not  he  ? 
What  was  the  difference  between  them  and  him  ? 
How  the  thirst  burned  him,  and  the  ring  of  the 
glasses  tortured  him  ! 

He  moved  a  step  from  the  corner,  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  door,  fully  intending  to  have  his  glass 
of  wine.  Then  something  seemed  to  snap  suddenly 
over  his  heart,  with  a  sharp  little  pain. 

"  I'll  be  damned  if  I  do,"  said  Ralston,  almost 
audibly. 

And  he  went  back  to  his  corner,  and  tried  to 
think  of  something  else. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

CROWDIE'S  artistic  temperament  was  as  quick  as 
a  child's  to  understand  the  moods  of  others,  and  he 
saw  at  a  glance  that  something  serious  had  hap 
pened  to  Katharine.  He  had  not  the  amateur's 
persistent  desire  to  feel  himself  an  artist  at  every 
moment.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  far  more  of  the 
genuine  artist's  wish  to  feel  himself  a  man  of  the 
world  when  he  was  not  at  his  work.  What  he  saw 
impressed  itself  upon  his  accurate  and  retentive 
memory  for  form  and  colour,  but  he  was  not  always 
studying  every  face  he  met,  and  thinking  of  paint 
ing  it.  He  was  fond  of  trying  to  read  character, 
and  prided  himself  upon  his  penetration,  which 
was  by  no  means  great.  It  is  a  common  peculiarity 
of  highly  gifted  persons  to  delight  in  exhibiting  a 
small  talent  which  seems  to  them  to  be  their  great 
est,  though  unappreciated  by  the  world.  Goethe 
thought  himself  a  painter.  Michelangelo  believed 
himself  a  poet.  Crowdie,  a  modern  artist  of  repu 
tation,  was  undoubtedly  a  good  musician  as  well, 
but  in  his  own  estimation  his  greatest  gift  was  his 
knowledge  of  men.  Yet  in  this  he  was  profoundly 
mistaken.  Though  his  reasoning  was  often  as  clear 
288 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  289 

as  his  deductions  were  astute,  he  placed  the  centre 
of  human  impulses  too  low,  for  he  judged  others  by 
himself,  which  is  an  unsafe  standard  for  men  who 
differ  much  from  the  average  of  their  fellow-men. 
He  mistook  his  quickness  of  perception  for  pene 
tration,  and  the  heart  of  men  and  things  escaped 
him. 

He  looked  at  Katharine  and  saw  that  she  was 
very  angry.  He  had  caught  sight  of  Ralston's  face, 
and  he  supposed  that  the  latter  had  been  drinking. 
He  concluded  that  Ralston  had  offended  Katharine, 
and  that  there  was  to  be  a  serious  quarrel.  Katha 
rine,  too,  had  evidently  been  in  the  greatest  haste 
to  get  away,  and  had  spoken  to  Crowdie  and  taken 
his  arm  merely  because  of  the  men  she  knew  he 
had  been  nearest  to  her  in  the  crowd.  The  painter 
congratulated  himself  upon  his  good  fortune  in 
appearing  at  that  moment. 

"  Will  you  have  some  supper  ?  "  he  asked,  guid 
ing  his  companion  toward  the  door. 

"  It's  too  early  —  thanks,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  almost  absently.  "I'd  rather  dance,  if  you 
don't  mind,"  she  added,  after  a  moment. 

"  Of  course ! "  And  he  directed  his  course 
towards  the  dancing  room. 

In  spite  of  his  bad  figure,  Crowdie  danced  very 
well.  He  was  very  light  on  his  feet,  very  skilful 
and  careful  of  his  partner,  and,  strange  to  say,  very 
enduring.  Katharine  let  herself  go  on  his  arm, 


290  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  they  glided  and  swayed  and  backed  and  turned 
to  the  right  and  left  to  the  soft  music.  For  a  time 
she  had  altogether  forgotten  her  strong  antipathy 
for  him.  Indeed,  she  had  almost  forgotten  his 
existence.  Momentarily,  he  was  a  nonentity,  ex 
cept  as  a  means  of  motion. 

As  she  moved  the  colour  slowly  came  back  to 
her  pale  face,  the  frown  disappeared  and  the  cold 
tire  in  her  eyes  died  away.  She  also  danced  well 
and  was  proud  of  it,  though  she  was  far  from  being 
equal  to  her  mother,  even  now.  With  Katharine 
it  was  an  amusement ;  with  Mrs.  Lauderdale  it  was 
still  a  passion.  But  now  she  did  not  care  to  stop, 
and  went  on  and  on,  till  Crowd! e  began  to  wonder 
whether  she  were  not  falling  into  a  dreamy  and 
half-conscious  state,  like  that  of  the  Eastern 
dervishes. 

"  Aren't  you  tired  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  —  go  on ! "  she  answered,  without  hesitation. 

He  obeyed,  and  they  continued  to  dance  till 
many  couples  stopped  to  look  at  them,  and  see 
how  long  they  would  keep  it  up.  Even  the  musi 
cians  became  interested,  and  went  on  playing 
mechanically,  their  eyes  upon  the  couple.  At  last 
they  were  dancing  quite  alone.  As  soon  as  the 
young  girl  saw  that  she  was  an  object  of  curiosity, 
she  stopped. 

"  Come  away  !  "  she  said  quickly.  "  I  didn't 
realize  that  they  were  all  looking  at  us  —  it  was  so 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  291 

It  was  not  without  a  certain  degree  of  vanity 
that  Crowdie  at  last  led  her  out  of  the  room.  He 
remembered  her  behaviour  to  him  that  morning 
and  on  former  occasions,  and  he  thought  that  he 
had  gained  a  signal  success.  It  was  not  possible, 
he  thought,  that  if  he  were  still  as  repulsive  to  her 
as  he  undoubtedly  had  been,  she  should  be  willing 
to  let  him  dance  with  her  so  long.  Dancing  meant 
much  to  him. 

"  Shall  we  sit  down  somewhere  ?  "  he  asked,  as 
they  got  away  from  the  crowd  into  a  room  beyond. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  if  there's  a  place  anywhere.  Any 
thing  ! "  She  spoke  carelessly  and  absently  still. 

They  found  two  chairs  a  little  removed  from  the 
rest,  and  sat  down  side  by  side. 

"  Miss  Lauderdale,"  said  Crowdie,  after  a  mo 
mentary  pause,  "I  wish  you'd  let  me  ask  you  a 
question.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  If  it's  not  a  rude  one,"  answered  Katharine,  in 
differently,  and  scarcely  looking  at  him.  "What 
is  it  ?  " 

"  Well  —  you  know  —  we're  relations,  or  con 
nections,  at  least.  Hester  is  your  cousin,  and  she's 
your  most  intimate  friend.  Isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Is  it  about  her  ?  There  she  is,  just  over 
there  —  talking  to  that  ugly,  thin  man  with  the 
nice  face.  Do  you  see  her  ?  " 

Crowdie  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  though 
he  did  not  in  the  least  wish  to  talk  about  his  wife 
to  Katharine. 


292      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  see  her,"  he  answered.  "  She's  talk 
ing  to  Paul  Griggs,  the  writer.  You  know  him, 
don't  you  ?  I  wonder  how  he  comes  here  ! " 

"  Is  that  Paul  Griggs  ?  "  asked  Katharine,  with 
a  show  of  interest.  "I've  always  wished  to  see 
him." 

"  Yes.     But  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  Hester  — 

"  What  has  nothing  to  do  with  Hester  ?  "  asked 
Katharine,  with  despairing  absence  of  mind,  as  she 
watched  the  author's  face. 

"  The  question  I  was  going  to  ask  you  —  if  you 
would  let  me." 

Katharine  turned  towards  him.  He  could  pro 
duce  extraordinarily  soft  effects  with  his  beautiful 
voice  when  he  chose,  and  he  had  determined  to 
attract  her  attention  just  then,  seeing  that  she  was 
by  no  means  inclined  to  give  it. 

"Oh,  yes  — the  question,"  she  said.  "Is  it  any 
thing  very  painful?  You  spoke  —  how  shall  I 
say  ?  —  in  such  a  pathetic  tone  of  voice." 

"  In  a  way  —  yes,"  answered  Crowdie,  not  at  all 
disturbed  by  her  manner.  "  Painful  is  too  strong 
a  word,  perhaps  —  but  it's  something  that  makes 
me  very  uncomfortable.  It's  this  —  why  do  you 
dislike  me  so  much  ?  Or  don't  you  know  why  ?  " 

Katharine  paused  a  moment,  being  surprised  by 
what  he  asked.  She  had  no  answer  ready,  for  she 
could  not  tell  him  that  she  disliked  his  white  face 
and  scarlet  lips  and  the  soft  sweep  of  his  eyelashes. 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  293 

She  took  refuge  in  her  woman's  right  to  parry  one 
question  with  another. 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  dislike  you  ? "  she 
enquired. 

"  Oh  —  a  thousand  things  — 

"  I'm  very  sorry  there  are  so  many  ! "  She 
laughed  good-humouredly,  but  with  the  intention  of 
turning  the  conversation  if  possible. 

"No,"  said  Crowdie,  gravely.  "You  don't  like 
me,  for  some  reason  which  seems  a  good  one  to  you. 
I'm  sure  of  that,  because  I  know  that  you're  not 
capricious  nor  unreasonable  by  nature.  I  should 
care,  in  any  case  —  even  if  we  were  casual  acquaint 
ances  in  society,  and  only  met  occasionally.  No 
body  could  be  quite  indifferent  to  your  dislike, 
Miss  Lauderdale." 

"  No  ?  Why  not  ?  I'm  sure  a  great  many  people 
are.  And  as  for  that,  I'm  not  so  reasonable  as  you 
think,  I  daresay.  I'm  sorry  you  think  I  don't  like 
you." 

"  I  don't  think  —  I  know  it.  No  —  please  !  Let 
me  tell  you  what  I  was  going  to  say.  We're  not 
mere  ordinary  acquaintances,  though  I  don't  in  the 
least  hope  ever  to  be  a  friend  of  yours,  exactly. 
You  see  —  owing  to  Hester  —  and  on  account  of  the 
portrait,  just  now  —  I'm  thrown  a  good  deal  in  your 
way.  I  can't  help  it.  I  don't  want  to  give  up 
painting  you  — 

"  But  I  don't  wish  you  to  !  I'll  come  every  day, 
if  you  like  —  every  day  I  can." 


294  KATHARINE  LAUDE1WALE. 

"  Yes ;  you're  very  good  about  it.  It's  just  be 
cause  you  are,  that  I'm  more  sensitive  about  your 
dislike,  I  suppose." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Crowdie,  how  — 

"  My  dear  Miss  Lauderdale,  I'm  positively  repul 
sive  to  you.  You  can't  deny  it  really,  though 
you'll  put  it  much  more  gently.  To-day,  when  1 
wanted  to  help  you  to  take  off  your  hat,  you  started 
and  changed  colour — just  as  though  you  had  touched 
a  snake.  I  know  that  those  things  are  instinctive, 
of  course.  I  only  want  you  to  tell  me  if  you  have 
any  reason  —  beyond  a  mere  uncontrollable  physical 
repulsion.  There's  no  other  way  of  putting  it,  I'm 
afraid.  I  mean,  whether  I've  ever  done  anything 
to  make  you  hate  the  sight  of  me  — 

"  You  ?  Never.  On  the  contrary,  you're  always 
very  kind,  and  nice  in  every  Avay.  I  wish  you 
would  put  it  out  of  your  head  —  the  whole  idea  — 
and  talk  about  something  else.  No,  honestly,  I've 
notning  against  you,  and  I  never  heard  anything 
against  you.  And  I'm  really  very  much  distressed 
that  I  should  have  given  you  any  such  impression. 
Isn't  that  the  answer  to  your  question  ?  " 

«  Yes  —  in  a  way.  It  reduces  itself  to  this  — 
if  you  never  looked  at  me,  and  never  heard  my 
voice,  you  wouldn't  hate  me." 

"  Oh  — your  voice  —  no  ! "  The  words  escaped 
her  involuntarily,  and  conveyed  a  wrong  impres 
sion;  for  though  she  meant  that  his  voice  was 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  295 

beautiful,  she  knew  that  its  mere  beauty  some 
times  repelled  her  as  much  as  his  appearance  did. 

"  Then  it's  only  iny  looks,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 
"  Thanks !  I'm  quite  satisfied  now,  and  I  quite 
agree  with  you  in  that.  You  noticed  to-day  that 
there  were  no  mirrors  in  the  studio."  He  laughed 
again  quite  naturally. 

"  Keally  !  "  exclaimed  Katharine,  as  a  sort  of 
final  protest,  and  taking  the  earliest  opportunity 
of  escaping  from  the  difficult  situation  he  had 
created.  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  something 
about  Mr.  G-riggs,  since  you  know  him.  I've  been 
watching  him  —  he  has  such  a  curious  face  !  " 

"  Paul  Griggs  ?  Oh,  yes  —  he's  a  curious  creature 
altogether."  And  Crowdie  began  to  talk  about  the 
man. 

Katharine  was  in  reality  perfectly  indifferent, 
and  followed  her  own  train  of  thought  while  Crow- 
die  made  himself  as  agreeable  as  he  could,  con 
sidering  that  he  was  conscious  of  her  inattention. 
He  would  have  been  surprised  had  he  known  that 
she  was  thinking  about  him. 

Since  Hester  had  told  her  the  story  of  his 
strange  illness,  Katharine  could  not  be  near  him 
without  remembering  her  cousin's  vivid  descrip 
tion  of  his  appearance  and  condition  during  the 
attack.  It  was  but  a  step  from  such  a  picture  to 
the  question  of  the  morphia  and  Crowdie's  story, 
and  one  step  further  brought  the  comparison  be- 


296  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

tween  slavery  to  one  form  of  excitement  and  slavery 
to  another ;  in  other  words,  between  John  Kalston 
and  the  painter,  and  then  between  Hester's  love  for 
Crowdie  and  Katharine's  for  her  cousin.  But  at 
this  point  the  divergence  began.  Crowdie,  who 
looked  weak,  effeminate  and  anything  but  manly, 
had  found  courage  and  strength  to  overcome  a 
habit  which  was  said  to  be  almost  unconquerable. 
Katharine  would  certainly  never  have  guessed  that 
he  had  such  a  strong  will,  but  Hester  had  told 
her  all  about  it,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  other 
explanation  of  the  facts.  And  Ralston,  with  his 
determined  expression  and  all  his  apparently  hardy 
manliness,  had  distinctly  told  her  that  he  did  not 
feel  sure  of  keeping  a  promise,  even  for  the  sake 
of  her  love.  It  seemed  incredible.  She  would 
have  given  anything  to  be  able  to  ask  Crowdie 
questions  about  his  life,  but  that  was  impossible, 
under  the  circumstances.  He  might  never  forgive 
his  wife  for  having  told  his  secret. 

Her  sudden  and  violent  anger  had  subsided,  and 
she  already  regretted  what  she  had  said  and  done 
with  Ralston.  Indeed,  she  found  it  hard  to  under 
stand  how  she  could  have  been  so  cruelly  unkind, 
all  in  a  moment,  when  she  had  hardly  found  time 
to  realize  the  meaning  of  what  he  had  told  her. 
Another  consideration  and  another  question  pre 
sented  themselves  now,  as  she  remembered  and 
recapitulated  the  circumstances  of  the  scene.  For 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  297 

the  first  time  she  realized  the  man's  loyalty  in 
thrusting  his  shortcomings  under  her  eyes  before 
the  final  step  was  taken.  It  must  have  been  a 
terrible  struggle  for  him,  she  thought.  And  if  he 
was  brave  enough  to  do  such  a  thing  as  that,  — to 
tell  the  truth  to  her,  and  the  story  of  his  shameful 
weakness, — what  must  that  temptation  be  which 
even  he  was  not  brave  enough  to  resist  ?  No  doubt, 
he  did  resist  it  often,  she  thought,  and  could  do 
so  in  the  future,  though  he  said  that  he  could  not 
be  sure  of  himself.  He  was  so  brave  and  manly. 
Yet  it  was  horrible  to  think  of  him  in  connection 
with  something  which  appeared  to  be  unspeakably 
disgusting  in  her  eyes. 

The  vice  was  one  which  she  could  not  under 
stand.  Few  women  can  ;  and  it  would  be  strange, 
indeed,  if  any  young  girl  could.  She  had  seen 
drunken  men  in  the  streets  many  times,  but  that 
was  almost  all  she  knew  of  it.  Occasionally,  but 
by  no  means  often,  she  had  seen  a  man  in  society 
who  had  too  much  colour,  or  was  unnaturally  pale, 
and  talked  rather  wildly,  and  people  said  that  he 
had  taken  too  much  wine  —  and  generally  laughed. 
Such  a  man  was  making  himself  ridiculous,  she 
thought,  but  she  established  no  connection  between 
him  and  the  poor  wretch  reeling  blind  drunk  out 
of  a  liquor  shop,  who  was  pointed  out  to  her  by 
her  father  as  an  awful  example.  She  had  even 
seen  a  man  once  who  was  lying  perfectly  helpless  in 


298  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

the  gutter,  while  a  policeman  kicked  him  to  make 
him  get  up  —  and  it  had  made  a  strong  impression 
upon  her.  She  remembered  distinctly  his  swollen 
face,  his  bloodshot  blue  eyes  and  his  filthy  clothes 
—  all  disgusting  enough. 

That  was  the  picture  which  rose  before  her  eyes 
when  John  Kalston,  putting  his  case  more  strongly 
than  was  necessary  in  order  to  cleai;  his  conscience 
altogether,  had  told  her  that  he  could  not  promise 
to  give  up  a  bad  habit  for  her  sake.  In  the  first 
moment  she  had  thought  merely  of  the  man  in 
society  who  behaved  a  little  foolishly  and  talked 
too  loud,  but  lialston's  earnest  manner  had  imme 
diately  evoked  the  recollection  of  her  father's 
occasional  discourses  upon  what  he  called  the 
besetting  sin  of  the  lower  classes  in  America,  and 
had  vividly  recalled  therewith  the  face  of  the 
besotted  wretch  in  the  gutter.  She  knew  of  no 
intermediate  stage.  To  be  a  slave  to  drink  meant 
that  and  nothing  else.  The  society  man  whom  she 
took  as  an  example  was  not  a  slave  to  drink ;  he 
was  merely  foolish  and  imprudent,  and  might  get 
into  trouble.  To  think  of  marrying  a  man  who 
had  lain  in  the  gutter,  half  blind  with  liquor,  to 
be  kicked  by  a  policeman,  was  more  than  she  could 
bear.  The  inevitable  comic  side  to  things  is  rarely 
discernible  to  those  brought  most  closely  into  con 
nection  with  them.  It  was  not  only  serious  to 
Katharine ;  it  was  horrible,  repulsive,  sickening. 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  299 

It  was  no  wonder  that  she  had  sprung  from  her 
seat  and  turned  her  back  on  Ralston,  and  that  she 
had  done  the  first  thing  which  presented  itself  as  a 
means  of  distracting  her  thoughts. 

But  now,  matters  began  to  look  differently  to 
her  calmer  judgment.  It  was  absurd  to  think  that 
Ralston  should  make  a  mountain  of  a  mole-hill, 
and  speak  as  he  had  spoken  of  himself,  if  he 
only  meant  that  he  now  and  then  took  a  glass  of 
champagne  more  than  was  good  for  him.  Besides, 
if  he  did  it  habitually,  she  must  have  seen  him 
now  and  then  behaving  like  her  typical  young 
gentleman,  and  making  a  fool  of  himself.  But 
she  had  never  noticed  anything  of  the  kind.  On 
the  other  hand,  she  could  not  believe  that  he  could 
ever,  under  any  circumstances,  turn  into  the  kind 
of  creature  who  had  been  held  up  to  her  as  an 
example  of  the  habitual  drunkard.  There  must 
be  something  between  the  two,  she  felt  sure,  some 
thing  which  she  could  not  understand.  She  would 
find  out.  And  she  must  see  John  again,  before 
she  left  the  dance.  Her  eyes  began  to  look  for 
him  in  the  crowd. 

There  are  times  when  the  processes  of  a  girl's 
mind  are  primitive  in  their  simplicity.  Katharine 
suddenly  remembered  hearing  that  men  drank  out 
of  despair.  She  had  seen  Ralston's  face  when 
she  had  risen  and  left  him,  and  it  had  certainly 
expressed  despair  very  strongly.  Perhaps  he  had 


300  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

gone  at  once  to  drown  his  cares  —  that  was  the 
expression  she  had  heard  —  and  it  would  be  her 
fault. 

Such  a  sequence  of  ideas  looks  childish  in  this 
age  of  profound  psychological  analysis,  but  it  is 
just  such  reasoning  which  sometimes  affects  people 
most  when  their  hearts  are  touched.  We  have 
all  thought  and  done  very  childish  things  at 
times. 

Katharine  forgot  all  about  Crowdie  and  what 
he  was  saying.  She  had  given  a  sort  of  social, 
mechanical  attention  to  his  talk,  nodding  intelli 
gently  from  time  to  time,  and  answering  by  vague 
monosyllables,  or  with  even  more  vague  questions. 
Crowdie  had  the  sense  to  understand  that  she 
did  not  mean  to  be  rude,  and  that  her  mind  was 
wholly  absorbed  —  most  probably  with  what  had 
taken  place  between  her  and  Ralston  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  earlier.  He  talked  on  patiently,  since  he 
could  do  nothing  else,  but  he  was  not  at  all  sur 
prised  when  she  at  last  interrupted  him. 

"Would  you  mind  looking  to  see  if  my  cousin 
—  Jack  Ralston,  you  know,  —  is  still  in  the  hall  ?" 
she  asked,  without  ceremony. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Crowdie,  rising.  "  Shall  I  tell 
him  you  want  him,  if  he's  there  ?  " 

"Do,  please.  It's  awfully  good  of  you,  Mr. 
Crowdie,"  she  added,  with  a  preoccupied  smile. 

Crowdie   dived   into   the  crowd,    looking   about 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  301 

him  in  every  direction,  and  then  making  his  way 
straight  to  Ealston,  who  had  not  left  his  corner. 

"  Miss  Lauderdale  wants  to  speak  to  you,  Rals 
ton,"  said  the  painter,  as  he  reached  him.  "  Hallo ! 
What's  the  matter  ?  You  look  ill." 

"  I  ?  Not  a  bit !  "  answered  Ralston.  "  It's  the 
heat,  I  suppose.  Where  is  Miss  Lauderdale  ? " 
He  spoke  in  a  curiously  constrained  tone. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  her  —  come  along !  " 

The  two  moved  .away  together,  Ralston  following 
Crowdie  through  the  press.  Through  the  open 
door  of  the  boudoir  Ralston  saw  Katharine's  eyes 
looking  for  him. 

"All  right,"  he  said  to  Crowdie,  "I  see  her. 
Don't  bother." 

"Over  there  in  the  low  chair  by  the  plants," 
answered  the  painter,  in  unnecessary  explana 
tion. 

"All  right,"  said  Ralston  again,  and  he  pushed 
past  Crowdie,  who  turned  away  to  seek  amusement 
in  another  direction.  Katharine  looked  up  gravely 
at  him  as  he  came  to  her  side,  and  then  pointed 
to  the  chair  Crowdie  had  left  vacant. 

"  Sit  down.  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  she  said 
quickly,  and  he  obeyed,  drawing  the  chair  a  little 
nearer. 

"I  thought  you  never  meant  to  speak  to  me 
again,"  he  said  bitterly. 

"  Did  you  ?     You  thought  that  ?     Seriously  ?  " 


302  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"  I  suppose  most  men  would  have  thought  very 
much  the  same." 

"You  thought  that  I  could  change  completely, 
like  that  —  in  a  single  moment  ?  " 

"  You  seemed  to  change." 

"  And  that  I  did  not  love  you  any  more  ?  " 

"That  was  what  you  made  me  think  — what 
else?  You're  perfectly  justified,  of  course.  I 
ought  to  have  told  you  long  ago." 

"  Please  don't  speak  to  me  so  —  Jack." 

"What  do  you  expect  me  to  say?"  he  asked, 
and  with  a  weary  look  in  his  eyes  he  leaned  back 
in  his  low  chair  and  watched  her. 

"Jack  — dear —  you  didn't  understand  when  I 
told  Mr.  Crowdie  to  call  you  —  you  don't  under 
stand  now.  I  was  angry  then  —  by  the  staircase. 
I'm  sorry.  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

Ralston's  face  changed  instantly,  and  he  leaned 
forward  again,  so  as  to  be  able  to  speak  in  a  lower 
tone. 

"Darling  —  don't  say  such  things  !  I've  nothing 
to  forgive  —  " 

"  You  have,  Jack  !  Indeed,  you  have  —  oh  !  why 
can't  we  be  alone  for  ten  minutes  —  I'd  explain 
it  all  —  what  I  thought  —  " 

"  But  there's  nothing  to  explain,  if  you  love  me 
still  —  at  least,  not  for  you." 

"Yes,  there  is.  There's  ever  so  much.  Jack, 
why  did  you  tell  me?  You  frightened  me  so  — 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      303 

you  don't  know !  And  it  seemed  as  though  it 
were  the  end  of  everything,  and  of  me,  myself, 
when  you  said  you  couldn't  be  sure  of  keeping  a 
promise  for  my  sake.  You  didn't  mean  what  you 
said  —  at  least,  not  as  I  thought  you  meant  it  — 
you  didn't  mean  that  you  wouldn't  try  —  and  of 
course  you  would  succeed  in  the  end." 

"I  think  I  should  succeed  very  soon,  with  you 
to  help  me,  Katharine.  But  that's  not  what  a 
man  —  who  is  a  man  —  accepts  from  a  woman." 

"Her  help  —  not  her  help,  Jack?  How  can 
you  say  so  ! " 

"Yes,  I  mean  it.  Suppose  that  I  should  fail, 
what  sort  of  life  should  you  lead  —  tied  to  a  man 
who  drinks?  Don't  start,  dear  —  it's  the  truth. 
We  shall  never  talk  about  it  again,  after  this, 
perhaps,  and  I  may  just  as  well  say  what  I  think. 
I  must  say  it,  if  I'm  ever  to  respect  myself  again." 

Katharine  looked  at  him,  realized  again  what 
his  courage  had  been  in  making  the  confession, 
and  she  loved  him  more  than  ever. 

"Jack  —  "  she  began,  and  hesitated.  "Since  we 
are  talking  of  it,  and  must  talk  of  it  —  can't  you 
tell  me  what  makes  you  do  it  —  I  mean  —  you 
know  !  What  is  it  that  attracts  you  ?  It  must  be 
something  very  strong  —  isn't  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  knew ! "  answered  Ralston,  half  sav 
agely.  "It  began  —  oh,  at  college,  you  know.  I 
was  vain  of  being  able  to  stand  more  than  the 


304  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

other   fellows   and   of   going   home   as    steady   as 
though  I'd  had  nothing." 

"  But  a  man  who  can  walk  straight  isn't  drunk, 
Jack  —  " 

"  Oh,  isn't  he ! "  exclaimed  Ralston,  with  a  sour 
smile.  "They're  the  worst  kind,  sometimes  —  " 

"But  I  thought  that  a  man  who  was  really 
drunk  —  was  —  was  quite  senseless,  and  tumbled 
down,  you  know  —  in  a  disgusting  state." 

"It's  not  a  pretty  subject  —  especially  when 
you  talk  about  it,  dear  —  but  it's  not  always  of 
that  description." 

It  shocked  Ralston's  refined  nature  to  hear  her 
speak  of  such  things.  For  he  had  all  the  refine 
ment  of  nervous  natures,  like  many  a  man  who 
has  been  wrecked  by  drink  —  even  to  men  of 
genius  without  number. 

"  Isn't  it  quite  —  no,  of  course  it's  not.  I  know 
well  enough."  Katharine  paused  an  instant.  "  I 
don't  care  if  it's  not  what  they  call  refined,  Jack. 
I'm  not  going  to  let  that  sort  of  squeamishness 
come  between  you  and  me.  It's  not  as  though 
I'd  come  upon  it  as  a  subject  of  conversation  — 
and  —  and  I'm  not  afraid  you'll  think  any  the 
worse  of  me  because  I  talk  about  horrid  things, 
when  I  must  talk  about  them  —  when  everything 
depends  on  them  —  you  and  I,  and  our  lives.  I 
must  know  what  it  is  that  you  feel  —  that  you 
can't  resist." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  305 

Ralston  felt  how  strong  she  was,  and  was  glad. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said.  "  Tell  me  all  about  it  — 
how  it  began." 

"That  was  it  —  at  college,  I  suppose,"  he  an 
swered.  "Then  it  grew  to  be  a  habit  —  insensibly, 
of  course.  I  thought  it  didn't  hurt  me  and  I 
liked  the  excitement.  Perhaps  I'm  naturally  mel 
ancholic  and  depressed." 

"  I  don't  wonder  !  " 

"No  —  it's  not  the  result  of  anything  especial. 
I've  not  had  at  all  an  unhappy  life.  I  was  born 
gloomy,  I  suppose  —  and  unlucky,  too.  You  see 
the  trouble  is  that  those  things  get  hold  of  one's 
nerves,  and  then  it  becomes  a  physical  affair  and 
not  a  mere  question  of  will.  Men  get  so  far 
that  it  would  kill  them  to  stop,  because  they're 
used  to  it.  But  with  me  —  no,  I  admit  the  fact 
—  it  is  a  question  of  will  and  nothing  else.  Just 
now  —  oh,  well,  I've  talked  enough  about  myself." 

"What  —  'just  now'?  What  were  you  going 
to  say  ?  You  wanted  to  go  and  drink,  just  after 
I  left  you  ?  " 

"  How  did  you  guess  that  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  sure  of  it.  And  —  and 
you  didn't,  Jack  ?  " 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"Why  not?  What  stopped  you?  It  was  so 
easy ! " 

"  I  felt  that  I  should  be  a  brute  if  I  did  —  so  I 


306  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

didn't.  That's  all.  It's  not  worth  mentioning  — 
only  it  shows  that  it  is  a  question  of  will.  I'm  all 
right  now  —  I  don't  want  it  any  more.  Perhaps 
I  shan't,  for  days.  I  don't  know.  It's  a  hope 
less  sort  of  thing,  anyway.  Sometimes  I'm  just  on 
the  point  of  taking  an  oath.  But  if  I  broke  it,  I 
should  blow  my  brains  out,  and  I  shouldn't  be  any 
better  off.  So  I  have  the  sense  not  to  promise 
myself  anything." 

"Promise  me  one  thing,"  said  Katharine, 
thoughtfully.  "It's  a  thing  you  can  promise  — 
trust  me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"Yes  —  I  promise,"  answered  Ralston,  without 
hesitation. 

"  That  you  will  never  bind  yourself  by  any  oath 
at  all,  will  you?" 

Ralston  paused  a  moment. 

«  Yes  —  I  promise  you  that,"  he  said.  "  I  think 
it's  very  sensible.  Thank  you,  dear." 

There  was  a  short  silence  after  he  had  spoken. 
Then  Katharine  laughed  a  little  and  looked  at  him 
affectionately. 

"  How  funny  we  are  ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Half 
an  hour  ago  I  quarrelled  with  you  because  you 
wouldn't  promise,  and  now  I've  got  you  to  swear 
that  you  never  will  promise,  under  any  circum 
stances." 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "It's  very  odd.  But 
other  things  are  changed,  too,  since  then,  though 
it's  not  long." 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  307 

"You're  mistaken,  Jack/'  she  said,  misunder 
standing  him.  "Haven't  I  said  enough?  Don't 
you  know  that  I  love  you  just  as  much  as  I  ever 
did  —  and  more  ?  But  nothing  is  changed  —  noth 
ing  —  not  the  least  little  bit  of  anything." 

"Dear  —  how  good  you  are!"  Ralston's  voice 
was  very  tender  just  then.  "  But  I  mean  —  about 
to-morrow." 

"Nothing's  changed,  Jack,"  said  Katharine,  lean 
ing  forward  and  speaking  very  earnestly. 

But  Ralston  shook  his  head,  sadly,  as  he  met 
her  eyes. 

"Yes,  dear,  it's  all  changed.  That  can't  be  as 
you  wanted  it  —  not  now." 

"But  if  I  say  that  I  will?  Oh,  don't  you 
understand  me  yet  ?  It's  made  no  difference.  I 
lost  my  head  for  a  moment  —  but  it  has  made  no 
difference  at  all,  except  that  I  respect  you  ever  so 
much  more  than  I  did,  for  being  so  honest ! " 

"  Respect  me  !  "  repeated  Ralston,  with  grave 
incredulity.  "  Me  !  You  can't !  " 

"  I  can  and  I  do.  And  I  mean  to  be  married  to 
you  —  to-morrow,  just  as  we  said.  I  wonder  what 
you  think  I'm  made  of,  to  change  and  take  back 
my  word  and  promise !  Don't  you  see  that  I  want 
to  give  you  everything  —  my  whole  life  —  much 
more  than  I  did  this  morning?  Yes,  ever  so 
much  more,  for  you  need  me  more  than  I  knew  or 
guessed.  You  see,  I  didn't  quite  understand  at  first, 


308      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

but  it's  all  clear  now.     You're  much  more  unhappy 

—  and  much  more  foolish  about  it  —  than  I  am. 
I  don't  want  to  go  back  over  it  all  again,  but  won't 
it  be  much  easier  for  you  when  you  have  me  to 
help  you?     It  seems  to-  me  that  it  must  be,  be 
cause  I  love  you  so  !     Won't  it  be  much  easier  ? 
Tell  me  ! " 

"Yes — of  course  it  would.  I  don't  like  to 
think  of  it,  because  I  mustn't  do  it.  I  should 
never  have  asked  you  to  marry  me  at  all,  until  I 
was  sure  of  myself.  But  —  well,  I  couldn't  help 
it.  We  loved  each  other." 

"  Jack  —  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"That  I  love  you  far  too  much  to  tie  myself 
round  your  life,  like  a  chain.  I  won't  do  it.  I'll 
do  the  best  I  can  to  get  over  this  thing  and  if  I  do 

—  I  shan't   be   half   good   enough   for   you  —  but 
if  you  will  still  have   me  then,  we'll  be  married. 
If  I  can't  get  over  it  —  why  then,  that  means  that 
I  shall  go  to  the  devil,  I  suppose.     At  all  events, 
you'll  be  free." 

He  spoke  very  quietly,  but  the  words  hurt  him 
as  they  came.  He  did  not  realize  until  he  had 
finished  speaking  that  the  resolution  had  been 
formed  within  the  last  five  minutes,  though  he 
felt  that  he  was  right. 

"  If  you  knew  how  you  hurt  me,  when  you  talk 
like  that !  "  said  Katharine,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  It's  a  question  of  absolute  right  and  wrong  — 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      309 

it's  a  question  of  honour/'  he  continued,  speaking 
quickly  to  persuade  himself.  "Just  put  yourself 
in  the  position  of  a  third  person,  and  think  about 
it.  What  should  you  say  of  a  man  who  did  such 
a  thing  —  who  accepted  such  a  sacrifice  as  you 
wish  to  make  ?  " 

"It  isn't  a  sacrifice  —  it's  my  life." 

"Yes  —  that's  it!  What  would  your  life  be, 
with  a  man  on  whom  you  couldn't  count  —  a  man 
you  might  be  ashamed  of,  at  any  moment  —  who 
can't  even  count  on  himself  —  a  fellow  who's  good 
for  nothing  on  earth,  and  certainly  for  nothing  in 
heaven  —  a  failure,  like  me,  who  —  " 

"  Stop !  You  shan't  say  any  more.  I  won't 
listen  !  Jack,  I  shall  go  away,  as  I  did  before  —  " 

"Well  — but  isn't  it  all  true?" 

"  ]SJo  —  not  a  word  of  it  is  true  !  And  if  it  were 
true  twenty  times  over,  I'd  marry  you  —  now,  in 
spite  of  everybody.  I  —  I  believe  I'd  commit  a 
sin  to  marry  you.  Oh,  it's  of  no  use  !  I  can't  live 
without  you  —  I  can't,  indeed  !  I  called  you  back 
to  tell  you  so  —  " 

She  stopped,  and  she  was  pale.  He  had  never 
seen  her  as  she  was  now,  and  she  had  never  looked 
so  beautiful  to  him. 

"  For  that  matter,  I  couldn't  live  without  you," 
he  said,  in  a  rather  uncertain  voice. 

"  And  you  shall  not ! "  she  answered,  with  deter 
mination.  "  Don't  talk  to  me  of  sacrifice  —  what 


310  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

could  anything  be  compared  with  that  —  with  giv 
ing  you  up?  You  don't  know  what  you're  saying. 
I  couldn't  —  1  couldn't  do  it  —  not  if  it  meant 
death ! " 

"But,  dear  —  Katharine  dear  —  if  I  fail,  as  1 
shall,  I'm  sure  —  just  think  — 

"If  you  do  —  but  you  won't — well,  if  you  should 
think  you  had  —  oh,  Jack  !  If  you  were  the  worst 
man  alive,  I'd  rather  die  with  you  than  live  for 
any  one  else  !  God  knows  I  would  —  " 

"  It's  very,  very  hard  !  "  Kalston  twisted  his 
fingers  together  and  bowed  his  head,  still  trying  to 
resist  her. 

She  bent  forward  again. 

"  Dear  —  tell  me  !    A  little  while  ago  —  out  there 
—  when  you  wanted  it  —  wasn't  that  hard  ?  " 

Ralston  nodded  silently. 

"  And  didn't  you  resist  because  it  was  a  little  — 
just  a  little  for  my  sake?  Just  at  that  moment 
when  you  said  to  yourself  that  you  wouldn't,  you 
know,  or  just  before,  or  just  afterwards  —  didn't 
you  think  a  little  of  me,  dear  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  did.  Oh,  Katharine,  Katharine  —  " 
His  voice  was  shaking  now. 

"Yes.  I  know  now,"  she  answered.  "I  don't 
want  anything  but  that  —  all  my  life." 

Still  Ralston  bent  his  head  again,  looking  down 
at  his  hands  and  believing  that  he  was  still  resist 
ing.  He  could  not  have  spoken,  had  he  tried, 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  311 

and  Katharine  saw  it.  She  leaned  still  nearer  to 
him. 

"  Dear  —  I'm  going  home  now.  I  shall  be  walk 
ing  in  Clinton  Place  at  half-past  eight  to-morrow 
morning,  as  we  arranged.  Good-night  —  dear." 

Before  he  realized  what  she  meant  to  do,  she 
had  risen  and  reached  the  door.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  followed  her,  but  the  crowd  had  closed 
again  and  she  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

KATHARIXE  LAUDERDALE  slept  sweetly  that 
night.  She  had,  as  she  thought,  at  last  reached 
the  crisis  of  her  life,  and  the  moment  of  action  was 
at  hand.  She  felt,  too,  that  almost  at  the  last 
moment  she  had  avoided  a  great  risk  and  made  a 
good  resolution  —  she  felt  as  though  she  had  saved 
John  Ralston  from  destruction.  Loving  him  as 
truly  as  she  did,  her  satisfaction  over  what  she  had 
done  was  far  greater  than  her  pain  at  what  he  had 
told  her  of  himself. 

But  this  was  not  insignificant,  though  she  wilfully 
made  it  seem  as  small  as  she  could.  It  was  quite 
clear  that  it  was  not  a  matter  to  be  laughed  at,  and 
that  Ralston  did  not  deserve  to  be  called  quixotic 
because  he  had  thought  it  his  duty  to  tell  her  of 
his  weakness.  It  was  not  a  mountain,  she  was 
sure,  but  she  admitted  that  it  was  not  a  mole-hill 
either.  Men  who  exaggerated  the  golden  letter  of 
virtue  at  the  expense  of  the  gentle  spirit  of  char 
ity,  as  her  father  did,  exaggerated  also,  as  a  rule, 
those  forms  of  wickedness  to  which  they  were 
themselves  least  liable.  She  knew  that.  But  she 
was  also  aware  that  drinking  too  much  was  not  by 
312 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  313 

any  means  an  imaginary  vice.  It  was  a  matter  of 
fact,  with  which  whole  communities  had  to  deal, 
and  about  which  men  very  unlike  her  father  in  other 
ways  spoke  gravely.  Nevertheless,  though  a  fact, 
all  details  connected  with  it  were  vague.  It  seemed 
to  her  a  matter  of  certainty  that  John  E-alston 
would  at  once  change  his  life  and  become  in  that 
respect,  as  in  all  others,  exactly  what  her  ideal  of 
a  man  always  had  been  since  she  had  loved  him. 

Her  mistake,  if  it  were  one,  was  pardonable 
enough.  Had  she  become  aware  of  his  fault  by 
accident,  and  when,  having  succumbed  to  his 
weakness,  she  could  have  seen  him  not  himself, 
the  whole  effect  upon  her  mind  would  have  been 
very  different.  But  she  had  never  seen  him,  as 
she  believed,  in  any  such  condition.  It  was  as 
though  he  had  told  it  as  of  another  man,  and  she 
found  it  impossible  really  to  connect  any  such 
ideas  of  inebriety  as  she  had  with  the  man  she 
loved.  It  was  as  vague  as  though  he  had  told 
her  that  he  had  once  had  the  scarlet  fever.  She 
would  have  known  very  well  what  the  scarlet  fever 
was  like,  but  she  could  not  have  associated  it  with 
him  in  any  really  distinct  way.  It  was  because  it 
had  seemed  such  a  small  matter  at  first  sight  that 
she  had  been  suddenly  overwhelmed  by  a  sense  of 
bitter  disappointment  when  he  had  refused  to  give 
his  promise  for  her  sake.  As  soon  as  she  had 
begun  to  understand  even  a  little  of  what  he  really 


314      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

felt,  she  had  been  as  ready  and  as  determined  to 
stand  by  him  through  everything  as  though  it  had 
been  a  question  of  a  bodily  illness,  for  which  he  was 
not  responsible,  but  in  which  she  could  really  help 
him.  When  she  had  been  angry,  and  afterwards, 
when,  in  spite  of  him,  she  had  so  strongly  insisted 
upon  the  marriage,  she  had  been  alike  under  a  false 
impression,  though  in  different  degrees.  She  had 
not  now  any  idea  of  what  she  had  really  under 
taken  to  do. 

With  her  nature  she  would  probably  have  acted 
just  as  she  did  in  the  last  case,  even  had  she  under 
stood  all,  by  actual  experience.  She  was  capable 
of  great  sacrifices  —  even  greater  than  she  dreamed 
of.  But,  not  understanding,  it  -did  not  seem  to 
her  that  she  had  done  or  promised  anything  very 
extraordinary,  and  she  was  absolutely  confident  of 
success.  It  was  natural  to  her  to  accept  wholly 
what  she  accepted  at  all,  and  it  had  always  seemed 
to  her  that  there  was  something  mean  in  complain 
ing  of  what  one  had  taken  voluntarily,  and  in 
finding  fault  with  details  when  one  had  agreed, 
as  it  were,  to  take  over  the  whole  at  a  moral 
valuation. 

It  has  seemed  necessary  to  dwell  at  great  length 
on  the  events  which  filled  the  days  preceding 
Katharine's  marriage.  Her  surroundings  had 
made  her  what  she  was,  and  justified,  if  anything 
could  justify,  the  extraordinary  step  she  was  about 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  315 

to  take,  and  which  she  actually  took  on  the  morn 
ing  after  the  dance  at  the  Thirlwalls'.  It  is  under 
such  circumstances  that  such  things  are  done,  when 
they  are  done  at  all.  The  whole  balance  of  opin 
ion  in  her  family  was  against  her  marrying  John 
Ealston.  The  whole  weight  of  events,  so  far  as 
she  was  concerned,  was  in  favour  of  the  marriage. 

That  she  loved  him  with  all  her  heart,  there  was 
no  doubt;  and  he  loved  her  with  all  that  his  nature 
could  give  of  love,  which  was,  indeed,  less  than 
what  she  gave,  but  was  of  a  good  and  faithful  sort 
in  its  way.  Love,  like  most  passions,  good  and 
bad,  nourishes  under  restraint  when  it  is  real  and 
perishes  almost  immediately  before  opposition 
when  it  has  grown  out  of  artificial  circumstances 
—  to  revive,  sometimes,  in  the  latter  case,  if  the 
artificiality  is  resuscitated.  Katharine  had  found 
herself  opposed  at  every  turn  in  her  love  for  Eals 
ton.  The  result  was  natural  and  simple  —  it  had 
grown  to  be  altogether  the  dominant  reality  of  her 
life. 

Even  those  persons  who  did  not  actively  do  their 
best  to  hinder  her  marriage,  contributed,  by  their 
actions  and  even  by  their  existence,  to  the  fortify 
ing  of  her  resolution,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  but  in 
reality  to  the  growth  of  the  passion  which  needed 
no  resolutions  to  direct  it.  For  instance,  Crowdie's 
repulsive  personality  threw  Ealston's  undeniable 
advantages  into  higher  relief.  His  wife's  devotion 


310  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

to  him  made  Katharine's  devotion  to  John  seem 
ten  times  more  reasonable  than  it  was.  Charlotte 
Slay  back's  wretchedly  petty  and  miserable  life 
with  a  man  whom  she  had  not  married  for  love, 
made  a  love  match  seem  the  truest  foundation  for 
happiness.  Old  Robert  Lauderdale's  solitary  exist 
ence  was  itself  an  argument  in  favour  of  marriage. 
The  small,  daily  discomfort  which  Alexander 
Junior's  miserly  economy  imposed  upon  his  house 
hold,  and  which  Katharine  had  been  forced  to 
endure  all  her  life,  made  Ralston's  careless  gen 
erosity  a  virtue  by  contrast.  Even  Mrs.  Lauder- 
dale  had  turned  against  her  daughter  at  last,  for 
reasons  which  the  young  girl  could  not  understand, 
either  at  the  time  or  for  a  long  time  afterwards. 

She  felt  herself  very  much  alone  in  the  world, 
in  spite  of  her  position.  And  yet,  since  her  mother 
had  begun  to  lose  her  supreme  beauty,  Katharine 
was  looked  upon  as  the  central  figure  of  the 
Lauderdale  tribe,  next  to  Robert  the  Rich  himself. 
'The  beautiful  Miss  Lauderdale'  was  a  personage 
of  much  greater  importance  than  she  herself  knew, 
in  the  eyes  of  society.  She  had  grown  used  to 
hearing  reports  to  the  effect  that  she  was  engaged 
to  be  married  to  this  man,  or  that,  and  that  her 
uncle  Robert  had  announced  his  intention  of  wrap 
ping  his  wedding  present  in  a  cheque  for  a  million 
of  dollars.  Stories  of  that  sort  got  into  the  papers 
from  time  to  time, and  Alexander  Junior  never  failed 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  317 

to  write  a  stern  denial  of  the  report  to  the  editor  of 
the  journal  in  which  the  tale  appeared.  Katharine 
was  used  to  seeing  the  family  name  in  print  on  all 
possible  occasions  and  paid  little  attention  to  it. 
She  did  not  know  how  far  people  must  have  be 
come  subjects  of  general  conversation  before  they 
become  the  paragraphist's  means  of  support  in  the 
dull  season  of  the  year.  The  paragraphists  on  a 
great  daily  paper  have  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
the  public  taste,  for  which  they  get  little  credit 
amongst  the  social  lights,  who  flatter  themselves 
that  the  importance  of  the  paper  in  question 
depends  very  largely  on  their  opinion  of  it. 
Society  is  very  much  like  a  little  community  of 
lunatics,  who  live  in  an  asylum  all  by  themselves, 
and  who  know  nothing  whatever  about  the  great 
public  that  lives  beyond  the  walls,  whereas  the 
public  knows  a  good  deal  about  the  lunatics,  and 
takes  a  lively  interest  in  their  harmless,  or  dan 
gerous,  vagaries.  And  in  the  same  way  society 
itself  forms  a  small  public  for  its  own  most  promi 
nent  individuals,  —  for  its  own  favourite  lunatics, 
so  to  say,  —  and  watches  their  doings  and  talks  about 
them  with  constant  interest,  and  flatters  them 
when  it  thinks  they  are  agreeable,  and  abuses 
them  bitterly  behind  their  backs  when  it  thinks 
they  are  not.  The  daily  dinner-party  conversation 
is  society's  imprinted  but  widely  circulated  daily 
paper.  It  is  often  quite  ignorant  of  state  secrets, 


318  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

but  it  is  never  unacquainted  with  social  events, 
and  generally  has  plenty  of  sound  reasons  with 
which  to  explain  them.  Society's  comparative 
idleness,  even  in  America,  gives  it  opportunities  of 
conversation  which  no  equally  large  body  of  men 
and  women  can  be  said  to  possess  outside  of  its 
rather  elastic  limits.  It  talks  the  same  sort  of 
matter  which  the  generally  busy  great  public  reads 
and  wishes  to  read  in  the  daily  press  —  and  as 
talking  is  a  quicker  process  than  controversy  in 
print,  society  manages  to  say  as  much  for  and 
against  the  persons  it  discusses,  in  a  day,  as  the 
newspapers  can  say  in  a  week,  or  perhaps  more. 
As  a  mere  matter  of  statistics,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  a  couple  of  talkative  people  spending  an 
evening  together  can  easily  'talk  off '  ten  thousand 
words  in  an  hour  —  which  is  equal  to  about  eight 
columns  of  an  ordinary  big  daily  paper,  and  they 
are  not  conscious  of  making  any  great  effort.  It  is 
manifestly  possible  to  say  a  great  many  things  in 
eight  columns  of  a  newspaper,  especially  if  one  is 
not  very  particular  about  what  one  says. 

Katharine  realized,  no  doubt,  that  there  would 
some  day  be  plentiful  discussion  of  her  rashness 
in  marrying  Ralston  against  the  wishes  of  the 
family,  and  she  knew  that  the  circumstances  would 
to  some  extent  be  regarded  as  public  property. 
But  she  was  far  from  realizing  her  own  social  im 
portance,  or  that  of  the  whole  Lauderdale  tribe,  as 


KATHARINE  LAUDEEDALE.  319 

compared  with  that  of  many  people  who  spent 
enormous  sums  in  amusing  their  friends,  con 
sciously  and  unconsciously,  but  who  could  never 
be  Lauderdales,  though  it  was  not  their  fault. 

At  the  juncture  she  had  now  reached,  such  con 
siderations  would  have  had  little  weight  with  her, 
but  the  probability  is  that,  had  she  known  exactly 
what  she  was  doing,  and  how  it  would  be  regarded 
should  others  know  of  it,  she  would  have  vastly 
preferred  to  rebel  openly  and  to  leave  New  York 
with  John  Ralston  on  the  day  she  married  him,  in 
uncompromising  defiance  of  her  family.  Most  peo 
ple  have  known  in  the  course  of  life  of  one  or  two 
secret  marriages  and  must  have  noticed  that  the 
motives  to  secrecy  generally  seem  inadequate.  As 
a  rule,  they  are,  if  taken  by  themselves.  But  in 
actual  fact  they  have  mostly  acted  upon  the  per 
sons  concerned  -through  a  medium  of  some  sort  of 
ignorance  and  in  conjunction  with  an  impatient 
passion.  It  is  common  enough,  even  in  connection 
with  more  or  less  insignificant  matters,  to  hear 
some  one  say,  '  I  wonder  why  I  did  that  —  I  might 
have  known  better ! '  Humanity  is  never  wholly 
logical,  and  is  never  more  than  very  partially 
wise,  even  when  it  is  old  enough  to  'know  better.' 
In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  when  it  is  said  of  a  man 
that  'a  prophet  is  without  honour  in  his  own  coun 
try,'  the  reason  is  that  his  own  country  is  the  best 
judge  of  what  he  prophesies.  And  similarly, 


320  KATHARINE  LAU DEED  ALE. 

society  judges  the  doings  of  all  its  members  by 
its  own  individual  knowledge  of  its  own  customs, 
so  that  very  few  who  do  anything  not  sanctioned 
by  those  customs  get  any  credit,  but,  on  the  con 
trary,  are  in  danger  of  being  called  fools  for  believ 
ing  that  anything  not  customary  can  be  done  at  all. 
At  half-past  eight  on  Thursday  morning  Katha 
rine  left  the  house  in  Clinton  Place,  and  turned 
eastward  to  meet  John  Ralston.  Her  only  source 
of  anxiety  was  the  fear  lest  her  father  should  by 
some  accident  go  out  earlier  than  usual.  There 
was  no  particular  reason  to  expect  that  he  should 
be  irregular  on  that  particular  day  of  all  others,  and 
she  had  left  him  over  his  beefsteak,  discussing  the 
relative  amounts  of  the  nutriment  —  as  compared 
with  the  price  per  pound  —  contained  in  beef  and 
mutton.  He  had  never  been  able  to  understand 
why  any  one  who  could  get  meat  -should  eat  any 
thing  else,  and  the  statistics  of  food  consumption 
interested  his  small  but  accurate  mind.  His  wife 
listened  quietly  but  without  response,  so  that  the 
discussion  was  very  one-sided.  The  philanthropist 
generally  shuffled  down  to  breakfast  when  every 
thing  was  cold,  a  point  about  which  he  was  utterly 
indifferent.  He  had  long  ago  discovered  that  by 
coming  down  late  he  could  always  be  the  last  to 
finish  his  meal,  and  could  therefore  begin  to  smoke 
as  soon  as  he  had  swallowed  his  last  mouthful 
which  was  a  habit  very  important  to  his  enjoyment 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  321 

and  very  destructive  to  that  of  any  one  else, 
especially  since  his  son  had  reduced  him  to  'Old 
Virginia  Cheroots  '  at  ten  cents  for  five. 

But  Alexander  Junior  was  no  more  inclined  than 
usual  to  reach  his  office  a  moment  before  his  ac 
customed  time.  Katharine  generally  left  the  din 
ing-room  as  soon  as  she  had  finished  breakfast, 
and  often  went  out  immediately  afterwards  for  a 
turn  in  Washington  Square,  so  that  her  departure 
excited  no  remark.  The  rain  had  ceased,  and 
though  the  air  was  still  murky  and  the  pavements 
wet,  it  was  a  decently  fine  morning.  Ralston  was 
waiting  for  her,  walking  up  and  down  on  a  short 
beat,  and  the  two  went  away  together. 

At  first  they  were  silent,  and  the  silence  had  a 
certain  constraint  about  it  which  both  of  them  felt, 
but  did  not  know  how  to  escape  from.  Ralston 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  come,"  he  said  rather 
awkwardly,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  But  I  told  you  I  was  coming, "  she  answered 
demurely.  "Didn't  I?" 

"I  know.  That's  just  it.  You  told  me  so  sud 
denly  that  I  couldn't  protest.  I  ran  after  you, 
but  you  were  gone  to  get  your  things,  and  when 
you  came  downstairs  there  were  a  lot  of  people, 
and  I  couldn't  speak  to  you." 

"I  saw  you,"  said  Katharine.  "It  was  just  as 
well.  You  had  nothing  to  say  to  me  that  I  didn't 


322      KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

know,  and  we  couldn't  have  begun  the  discussion 
of  the  matter  all  over  again  at  the  last  instant. 
And  now,  please,  Jack  dear,  don't  begin  and  argue. 
I've  told  you  a  hundred  times  that  I  know  exactly 
what  I'm  doing  —  and  that  it's  I  who  am  making 
you  do  it.  And  remember  that  unless  we  are 
married  first  uncle  Robert  will  never  make  up  his 
mind  to  do  anything  for  us.  It's  never  of  any  use 
to  try  and  overcome  people's  objections.  The  only 
way  is  to  ignore  them,  which  is  just  what  we're 
doing." 

"There's  no  doubt  about  that,"  answered  Rals 
ton.  "  There's  one  thing  I  look  forward  to  with 
pleasure,  in  the  way  of  a  row,  though  —  I  mean 
when  your  father  finds  it  out.  I  hope  you'll  let 
me  tell  him  and  not  spoil  my  fun.  Won't  you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  you  like.  Why  not?  Not  that  I'm 
at  all  afraid.  You  don't  know  papa.  When  he 
finds  that  the  thing  is  done,  that  it's  the  inevita 
ble  course  of  events,  in  fact,  he'll  be  quite  different. 
He'll  very  likely  talk  of  submission  to  the  Divine 
will  and  offer  to  speak  to  Beman  Brothers  about 
letting  you  try  the  clerkship  again.  I  know 
papa!  Providence  has  an  awfully  good  time  with 
him — but  nobody  else  does." 

At  which  piece  of  irreverence  Ralston  laughed, 
for  it  exactly  expressed  his  idea  of  Alexander 
Junior's  character. 

"  And  there's  one  other  thing  I  don't  want  you 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  323 

to  speak  of,  Jack/'  pursued  Katharine,  more 
gravely.  "  I  mean  what  you  told  me  last  night. 
I  don't  intend  ever  to  mention  it  again  —  do  you 
understand,  dear?  I've  thought  it  all  over  since 
then.  I'm  glad  you  told  me,  and  I  admire  you 
for  telling  me,  because  it  must  have  been  hard, 
especially  until  I  began  to  understand.  A  woman 
doesn't  know  everything,  you  see!  Indeed,  we 
don't  know  much  about  anything.  We  can  only 
feel.  And  it  did  seem  very  hard  at  first  —  only 
for  a  moment,  Jack  —  that  you  should  not  be  will 
ing  to  promise  what  I  asked,  when  it  was  to  make 
such  a  difference  to  me,  and  I  was  willing  to 
promise  you  anything.  You  see  how  I  felt,  don't 
you?" 

"Of  course,"  answered  Ralston,  looking  down 
at  the  pavement  as  he  walked  on  and  listened.  "  It 
was  natural." 

"  Yes.  I'm  so  glad  you  see  it.  But  afterwards, 
when  I  thought  of  things  I'd  heard  —  why,  then  I 
thought  a  great  deal  too  much,  you  know  —  dreadful 
things !  But  I  understood  better  what  it  all  meant. 
You  see,  at  first,  it  seemed  so  absurd !  Just  as  though 
I  had  asked  you  not  to  —  not  to  wear  a  green  tie, 
for  instance,  as  Charlotte  asked  her  husband. 
Absurd,  wasn't  it?  So  I  was  frightfully  angry 
with  you  and  got  up  and  went  away.  I'm  so 
ashamed  of  myself  for  it,  now.  But  then,  when  it 
grew  clearer  —  when  I  really  knew  that  there  was 


324  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

suffering  in  it,  and  remembered  hearing  that  it 
was  something  like  morphia  and  such  things,  that 
have  to  be  cured  by  degrees  —  you  know  what  I 
mean  —  why,  then  I  wanted  you  more  than  ever. 
You  know  I'd  give  anything  to  help  you  —  just  to 
make  it  a  little  easier  for  you,  dear." 

"You  do!  You're  doing  everything  —  you're 
giving  me  everything,"  said  Ralston,  earnestly. 

"  Well  —  not  everything  —  but  myself,  because 
that's  all  I  have  to  give  —  if  it's  any  use  to  you." 

"  Dear  —  as  if  you  weren't  everything  the  world 
has,  and  the  only  thing  and  the  best  thing  alto 
gether!" 

"And  if  I  didn't  love  you  better  than  anything 
—  better  than  kings  and  queens  —  I  wouldn't  do  it. 
Because,  after  all,  though  I'm  not  much,  I'm  all  I 
have.  And  then  —  I'm  proud  —  inside,  you  know, 
Jack.  Papa  says  I'm  not,  because  mamma  and  I 
sometimes  go  to  the  theatre  in  the  gallery,  for 
economy.  But  that's  hardly  a  test  in  real  life, 
I  think  —  and  besides,  I  know  I  am.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

"Yes —a  little,  in  the  right  way.  It's  nice.  I 
like  it  in  you." 

"I'm  so  glad.  It's  because  I'm  proud  that  I 
don't  want  to  talk  about  that  matter  any  more.  It 
just  doesn't  exist  for  me.  That's  what  I  want 
you  to  feel.  But  I  want  you  to  feel,  too,  that  I'm 
always  there,  that  I  shall  always  understand,  and 


KATHARINE  LAUDEBDALE.  325 

that  if  I  can  help  you  the  least  little  bit,  I  mean 
to.  I've  turned  into  a  woman  all  at  once.  Jack, 
in  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  and  now  in  an  hour 
I  shall  be  your  wife,  though  nobody  will  know 
about  it  for  a  day  or  two.  But  I  don't  mean  to 
turn  into  your  grandmother,  too,  and  be  always 
lecturing  you  and  asking  questions,  and  that  sort 
of  thing.  You  wouldn't  like  it  either,  would 
you?" 

"Hardly!" 

Ralston  laughed  again,  for  everything  she  said 
made  him  feel  happier  and  helped  to  destroy  the 
painful  impression  of  the  previous  night. 

"Why  do  you  laugh,  Jack?  Oh,  I  suppose  it's 
my  way  of  putting  it.  But  it's  what  I  mean,  and 
that's  the  principal  thing.  I'd  rather  die  than 
watch  you  all  the  time,  to  see  what  you  do. 
Imagine  if  I  were  always  asking  questions  —  f  Jack, 
where  did  you  go  last  night  ?  '  And  — '  Jack,  is 
that  your  third  or  fourth  glass  of  wine  to-day? ' 
The  mere  idea  is  disgusting .  No.  You  must  just 
do  your  best,  and  feel  that  I'm  always  there  — 
even  when  I'm  not  —  and  that  I'm  never  watching 
you,  even  when  I  look  as  though  I  were,  and  that 
neither  you  nor  I  are  ever  going  to  say  a  word 
about  it  —  from  this  very  minute,  forever !  Do  you 
understand?  Isn't  that  the  best  way,  Jack?  And 
that  I'm  perfectly  sure  that  it  will  be  all  right  in 
the  end  —  you  must  remember  that,  too." 


326  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

"I  think  you're  right,"  said  Kalston.  "  You've 
suddenly  turned  into  a  woman,  and  into  a  very 
clever  one.  Those  are  just  the  things  which  most 
women  never  will  understand.  They'd  be  much 
happier  if  they  did." 

The  two  walked  on  rapidly,  talking  as  they 
went,  and  assuredly  not  looking  at  all  like  a  run 
away  couple.  But  though  it  was  very  early,  they 
avoided  the  streets  in  which  they  might  easily  meet 
acquaintances,  for  it  was  the  hour  when  men  who 
had  any  business  were  going  to  it  in  various  ways, 
according  to  their  tastes,  but  chiefly  by  the  ele 
vated  road.  They  had  no  difficulty  in  reaching 
unobserved  the  house  of  the  clergyman  who  had 
promised  to  marry  them. 

He  was  in  readiness,  and  at  his  window,  and  as 
they  came  in  sight  he  left  the  house  and  met  them. 
All  three  walked  silently  to  his  church,  and  he  let 
them  in  with  his  own  key,  followed  them  and 
locked  the  door  behind  them. 

In  ten  minutes  the  ceremony  was  over.  The 
clergyman  beckoned  them  into  the  vestry,  and 
immediately  signed  a  form  of  certificate  which  he 
had  already  filled  in,  and  handed  it  to  John  with 
out  a  word.  John  took  a  new  treasury  note  from 
his  pocket-book  and  laid  it  upon  the  oak  table. 

"I'm  sure  you  must  have  many  poor  people  in 
your  parish,"  he  said,  in  explanation. 

"I  have,"  said  the  clergyman.     "Thank  you," 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  327 

he  added,  placing  the  money  in  his  own  pocket- 
book,  which  was  an  old  black  one,  much  the  worse 
for  wear. 

"It  is  we  who  have  to  thank  you,"  answered 
John,  "for  helping  us  out  of  a  very  difficult 
situation." 

"  Hm ! "  ejaculated  the  elder  man,  rubbing  his 
chin  with  his  hand  and  fixing  a  penetrating  glance 
on  Ealston's  face.  "Perhaps  you  won't  thank  me 
hereafter,"  he  said  suddenly.  "Perhaps  you  think 
it  strange  that  a  man  in  my  position  should  be  a 
party  to  a  secret  marriage.  But  I  do  not  antici 
pate  that  you  will  ask  me  for  a  justification  of  my 
action.  I  had  reasons  —  reasons  —  old  reasons." 
He  continued  to  rub  his  chin  thoughtfully.  "I 
should  like  to  say  a  word  to  you,  Mrs.  Kalston," 
he  added,  turning  to  Katharine. 

She  started  and  blushed  a  little.  She  had  not 
expected  to  be  addressed  by  what  was  now  her 
name.  P>ut  she  held  up  her  head,  proudly,  as 
though  she  were  by  no  means  ashamed  of  it. 

"I  shall  not  detain  you  a  moment,"  continued 
the  clergyman,  looking  at  her  as  earnestly  as  he 
had  looked  at  John.  "I  have  perfect  confidence 
in  Mr.  Ralston,  as  I  have  shown  by  acceding  to 
his  very  unusual  request.  He  has  told  you  what 
I  said  to  him  yesterday,  and  I  do  not  wish  him  to 
doubt  that  I  am  sure  that  he  has  done  so.  It  is 
merely  as  a  matter  of  conscience,  to  satisfy  my  own 


328  EATIIAR1NE  LAUDERDALE. 

scruples  in  fact,  that  I  wish  to  repeat,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  the  same  words, '  mutatis  mutandis,'  which 
I  said  to  him.  I  have  married  you  and  have  given 
you  my  certificate  that  the  ceremony  has  been  duly 
and  properly  performed,  and  you  are  man  and  wife. 
Hut  I  have  married  you  thus  secretly  and  without 
witnesses  —  none  being  indispensable  —  on  the  dis 
tinct  understanding  that  your  union  is  not  to  be 
kept  a  secret  by  you  any  longer  than  you  shall 
deem  secrecy  absolutely  necessary  to  your  future 
happiness.  Mr.  Kalston  informed  me  that  it  was 
your  intention  to  acknowledge  what  you  had  done 
to  a  near  relation,  the  head  of  your  family,  in  fact, 
without  any  delay.  I  am  sure  that  it  is  really 
your  intention  to  do  so.  But  let  me  entreat  you, 
if  it  is  possible,  to  lose  no  time,  but  to  go,  even  at 
this  hour,  to  the  person  in  question  and  tell  your 
story,  one  or  the  other  of  you,  or  both  together.  I 
am  an  old  man,  and  human  life  is  very  uncertain, 
and  human  honour  is  rightly  held  very  dear,  for  if 
honour  means  anything,  it  means  the  social  appli 
cation  of  that  truth  which  is  by  nature  divine. 
To-morrow  I  may  no  longer  be  here  to  testify  that 
I  signed  that  document  with  my  own  hand.  To 
day  the  person  in  whom  you  intend  to  confide  can 
come  and  see  me  and  I  will  answer  for  what  I  have 
done,  or  lie  can  acknowledge  your  marriage  with 
out  question,  whichever  he  chooses  to  do;  it  will 
be  better  if  it  be  done  quickly.  It  always  seems  to 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.      329 

me  that  to-morrow  is  the  enemy  of  to-day,  and 
lies  in  ambush  to  attack  it  unawares.  Therefore, 
I  entreat  you  to  go  at  once  to  him  you  have  chosen 
and  tell  him  what  you  have  done.  And  so  good 
bye,  and  may  God  bless  you  and  make  you  happy 
and  good." 

"  I  shall  go  now,"  said  Katharine.  "  And  we  thank 
you  very  much,"  she  added,  holding  out  her  hand. 

The  clergyman  let  them  out  and  stood  looking 
after  them  for  a  few  seconds.  Then  he  slowly 
nodded  twice  and  re-entered  the  church.  Ralston 
and  Katharine  walked  away  very  slowly,  both  look 
ing  down,  and  each  inwardly  wondering  whether  the 
other  would  break  the  silence.  It  was  natural  that 
they  should  not  speak  at  first.  The  words  of  the 
service  had  brought  very  clearly  before  them  the 
meaning  of  what  they  had  done,  and  the  clergy 
man's  short  speech,  made  as  he  said  for  the  sake 
of  satisfying  his  own  scruples  of  conscience,  had 
influenced  them  by  its  earnestness.  They  reached 
a  crossing  without  having  exchanged  a  syllable. 
As  usual  in  such  cases,  a  chance  exclamation  broke 
the  ice. 

"  Take  care ! "  exclaimed  Ealston,  laying  his 
hand  on  Katharine's  arm,  and  looking  at  an  express 
wagon  which  was  bearing  down  on  them. 

"It's  ever  so  far  off  still,"  said  Katharine,  smil 
ing  suddenly  and  looking  into  his  face.  "  But  I 
like  you  to  take  care  of  me,"  she  added. 


330  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

He  smiled,  too,  and  they  waited  for  the  wagon 
to  go  by.  The  clouds  had  broken  away  at  last  and 
the  low  morning  sun  shone  brightly  upon  them. 

"  I'm  so  glad  it's  fine  on  our  wedding  day,  Jack!  " 
exclaimed  Katharine.  "It  was  horrid  yesterday 
afternoon.  How  long  ago  that  seems!  Did  you 
hear  him  call  me  Mrs.  Ralston?  Katharine  Rals 
ton  —  how  funny  it  sounds !  It's  true,  that's  your 
mother's  name." 

"  You'll  be  Mrs.  John  Ralston  —  to  distinguish." 
John  laughed.  "Yes  —  it  does  seem  long  ago. 
What  did  you  do  with  yourself  yesterday?" 

"  Yesterday?  Let  me  see  —  I  sat  for  my  portrait, 
and  then  I  went  home,  and  then  late  in  the  after 
noon  Charlotte  suddenly  appeared,  and  then  I  dined 
with  the  Joe  Aliens  —  the  young  couple,  you  know, 
don't  you?  And  then  I  went  to  the  dance.  1 
hardly  knew  what  I  was  doing,  half  the  time." 

"And  I  hardly  know  why  I  asked  the  question. 
Isn't  it  funny?  I  believe  we're  actually  trying  to 
make  conversation !  " 

"You  are  —  I'm  not,"  laughed  Katharine.  "It 
was  you  who  began  asking.  I  was  talking  quite 
sentimentally  and  appropriately  about  yesterday 
seeming  so  long  ago,  you  know.  But  it's  true. 
It  does  —  it  seems  ages.  I  wonder  when  time  will 
begin  again  —  I  feel  as  though  it  had  stopped 
suddenly." 

"It  will  begin  again,  and  it  will  seem  awfully 


KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE.  331 

long,  before  this  afternoon  —  when  uncle  Robert 
has  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  us." 

"  He  won't  refuse  —  he  shan't  refuse ! " 
Katharine  spoke  with  an  energy  which  increased 
at  every  syllable.  "Now  that  the  thing  is  done, 
Jack,  just  put  yourself  in  his  position  for  a  mo 
ment.  Just  imagine  that  you  have  anywhere 
between  fifty  arid  a  hundred  millions,  all  of  your 
own.  Yes  —  I  know.  You  can't  imagine  it.  But 
suppose  that  you  had.  And  suppose  that  you  had 
a  grand-niece,  whom  you  liked,  and  who  wasn't 
altogether  a  disagreeable  young  person,  and  whom 
you  had  always  rather  tried  to  pet  and  spoil  —  not 
exactly  knowing  how  to  do  it,  but  out  of  sheer  good 
nature.  And  suppose  that  you  had  known  ever  so 
long  that  there  was  only  one  thing  which  could 
make  your  nice  niece  perfectly  happy  —  " 

"  It's  all  very  well,  Katharine,"  interrupted  Rals 
ton,  "but  has  he  known  that?" 

"I've  never  failed  to  tell  him  so,  on  the  most 
absurdly  inadequate  provocation.  So  it  must  be 
his  fault  if  he  doesn't  know  it  —  and  I  shall  cer 
tainly  tell  him  all  over  again  before  I  bring  out  the 
news.  It  wouldn't  do  to  be  too  sudden,  you  know. 
Well,  then  —  suppose  all  that,  and  that  the  young 
gentleman  in  question  was  a  proper  young  gentle 
man  enough,  as  young  gentlemen  go,  and  didn't 
want  money,  and  wouldn't  take  it  if  it  were  offered 
to  him,  but  merely  asked  for  a  good  chance  to  work 


332  KATHARINE  LAUDERDALE. 

and  show  what  he  could  do.  That's  all  very  sim 
ple,  isn't  it?  And  then  realize  —  don't  suppose 
any  more  —  just  what's  going  to  happen  inside  of 
half  an  hour.  The  devoted  niece  goes  to  the  good 
old  uncle,  and  says  all  that  over  again,  and  calmly 
adds  that  she's  done  the  deed  and  married  the 
young  gentleman  and  got  a  certificate,  which  she 
produces  —  by  the  bye,  you  must  give  it  to  me. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  my  losing  it  —  I'm  not  such  a 
goose.  And  she  goes  on  to  say  that  unless  the  good 
uncle  does  something  for  her  husband,  she  will  sim 
ply  make  the  uncle's  life  a  perfectly  unbearable 
burden  to  him,  and  that  she  knows  how  to  do  it, 
because  if  he's  a  Lauderdale,  she's  a  Lauderdale, 
and  her  husband  is  half  a  Lauderdale,  so  that  it's 
all  in  the  family,  and  no  entirely  unnecessary 
consideration  is  to  be  shown  to  the  victim  —  well? 
Don't  you  think  that  ought  to  produce  an  effect  of 
some  sort?  I  do." 

"Yes,"    laughed    Ralston,     "I    think    so,    too. 
Something  is  certainly  sure  to  happen." 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


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